


Honōka

by Yujina



Series: Honōka [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blame Danzō, Chakra Theory, Crack Treated Seriously, F/F, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, GUESS WHAT, Good Orochimaru (Naruto), Haircuts Gone Wrong, Hatake Kakashi is a Little Shit, Honōka is also a Little Shit, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Jutsu Gone Wrong, M/M, Misunderstood Orochimaru, Mokuton, Moral Ambiguity, Multi, Ninjutsu Theory, Original Character(s), Other, Reincarnation, Self-Insert, Sensei Orochimaru (Naruto), Sensor Abilities Gone Wrong, Summoning, Summoning gone wrong, Third Shinobi War, Timeline What Timeline, Unreliable Narrator, border patrol, border patrol gone wrong, dojutsu, dōjutsu gone wrong, for everything, minato is a nerd, plant babies, reincarnation gone wrong, so much theory, world building
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:48:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 118
Words: 218,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26225191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yujina/pseuds/Yujina
Summary: Tachibana Tomoe wakes up as Tsunemori Honōka.
Relationships: Hatake Kakashi & Kakashi's Ninken, Hatake Kakashi & Namikaze Minato, Hatake Kakashi & Original Character(s), Jiraiya & Orochimaru & Tsunade (Naruto), Namikaze Minato/Uzumaki Kushina, Orochimaru (Naruto) & Original Character(s)
Series: Honōka [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1941916
Comments: 5302
Kudos: 3412
Collections: A Collection of Beloved Inserts, Amazing OFC fanfiction, Amazing SI Stories, Fics That I Wouldn't Mind Losing Sleep Over, Japanese Approved, Naruto OC (include SI OC), NarutoStories, Nonstandard thought processes, Reincarnation and Transmigration, Seriously Good Self-Insert and OCs Fics, SomethingNew_Worldbuilding_Creative_OfQuality, best fic collection ever read, fics that were so good i didn't finish my homework, oc self insertSI





	1. Tokyo, June 18th, 1999

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Chapter 1 Audio!](https://honokaforkonoha.tumblr.com/post/644144505460834304/yujina-tokyo-june-18th-1999)

She sits alone at the breakfast table. On the radio, the weatherman predicts rain, but it’s already raining. Tomoe hears her father on the phone in the other room.

Is it the bank again?

She picks up her schoolbag and heads to the entryway, or genkan. Their home is traditional. They share the grounds with a centuries old shrine. Her classmates think this makes her a spoiled heiress.

That was her mother.

The reality is, their shrine is neither glamorous nor historically important, unlike other shrines in the area. It’s no-name compared to places like Asakusa Shrine.

She steps into her shoes and slips on her saggy black raincoat and takes her time going down the stone steps. It’s been years since anybody worked on them and the soil in the hillside verges on loamy. It moves around. A tree she planted in preschool is three meters farther south than it started.

The road is damp and a morning mist blankets the neighborhood in soft grey tones. Rain falls in scattered droplets. She jogs down the one-way street to her grandfather’s dōjō.

He’s her maternal grandfather—the only grandparent she knows.

“Good morning, Tomoe-chan,” he smiles; planted, firm. “Shall we begin?”

“Yes, Ojī-chan.”

Her grandfather’s dōjō is technically a jūdō dōjō, but that’s never stopped him from learning other disciplines. In particular, as he ages, he’s becoming more and more interested in Chinese health oriented disciplines like tai chi and qigong. As a younger man, he was rumored to have competed at a national level in karate. She wouldn’t know for certain, as he keeps no trophies.

Qigong is what they begin with anyhow. It’s important to begin the day by realigning the chi circulating in the body—or so her grandfather says. He talks a lot about stagnating energies. She’s not sure she gets it.

When she first started learning, it felt embarrassing, and was also _tiring._ There were a lot of movements she didn’t understand and being told to imagine chi moving through her body was awkward.

What she does know, chi and stagnating energy aside, is that she feels better for it when they finish.

Then it’s the near painfully slow forms of tai chi.

“Remember, Tomoe-chan, as we move, yin and yang swirl within us—but at our core we remain still.”

She breathes through the burn in her muscles as they creep from one movement to another. It’s hard work.

With a final inhale and exhale, their morning routine is complete.

Her grandfather smiles and offers her a glass of water from the tray he prepared beforehand.

“Will you be by this evening for the second half?” he asks.

“I will, Ojī-chan.”

They practice jūdō and a bit of karate in the evenings after supper. It’s demanding and more physically exhausting than tai chi—more so for her grandfather than for herself—but he’s happy to teach her.

She finishes her water, gently setting the antique Iittala glass down, and her grandfather sees her out.

“Tomoe-chan, I wish you would wear a brighter coat. No one is going to see you in this dreary weather wearing that old thing.”

“I’ll be fine, Ojī-chan. The station is barely five minutes away.”

…

_CRASH!_

…

A single shoe hits the ground.


	2. Eternal Genin: Might Duy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Her lucky break blows in like a hurricane, under the guise of the bathhouse’s most eccentric guests.
> 
> The father, ever in green spandex, the Eternal Genin: Might Duy; and his son, also in green spandex shorts, Might Guy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Chapter 2 Audio](https://honokaforkonoha.tumblr.com/post/644144658853904384/yujina-eternal-genin-might-duy)

Tachibana Tomoe wakes up as Tsunemori Honōka. 

She thinks something went wrong somewhere along the line—because, whether or not she believes in reincarnation, she doesn’t think memories of the previous life are meant to be remembered.

Her new world is strange, a contradiction of traditional and modern amenities, and she finds herself in the role of the youngest daughter of a once prosperous bathhouse. It’s an unfamiliar experience. Overwhelming. She knows nothing about bathhouses.

She’s not used to having a full house all hours of the day either. It feels like there’s no time for rest, even as a baby, and she’s uncomfortable in her own skin. She has four older siblings who can’t pick her up or play with her for fear of making her screech. With her being the way she is, the novelty of a new baby sibling wears away quickly. She thinks maybe she didn’t even possess that baby newness to begin with. Her new parents have little time for her between their business and her older, nearly grown, siblings.

When she is able, she embraces her independence as best she can in the unfamiliar body of a toddler, even if she is doubly lonely having to repeat a solitary childhood again. 

She has no Ojī-chan, this time.

At five she asks her mother about school. She’s informed that there won’t be time (money—it’s always money) for that. Her mother consoles her by telling her that the monks at the temple will teach her to read and write.

She already knows these things (reading and writing—the language hasn’t changed, at least), and goes to the monks to see what else she can learn. However, the monks will teach her nothing else—they only accept boys for further study.

No one, anywhere, will accept her. She resents her gender for the second time in her life.

Her lucky break blows in like a hurricane, under the guise of the bathhouse’s most eccentric guests.

The father, ever in green spandex, the Eternal Genin: Might Duy; and his son, also in green spandex shorts, Might Guy.

By now, Honōka recognizes that there’s a war of some sort going on, and that the village’s (not a village, but a large town. Maybe a small city) military force is made up of ‘ninja’. It’s odd, but what isn’t in this strange new world?

She overhears them talking about an entrance exam at an academy ( _the_ Academy) and asks them about it.

“Excuse me, Okyaku-san? Can you tell me about this Academy?”

She somehow surprises the ‘ninja folk’. But, she supposes, a small girl did just approach them out of the blue. She probably registers as harmless to them.

Might Duy flashes her a bright smile and a thumbs up. It’s blinding.

“Certainly, my little flower bud! What would you like to know?”

“Are girls allowed to attend?” the most important question, unfortunately.

“Of course! All youths are welcome at the Academy!”

She almost melts in relief.

“What is the tuition?” she’s been saving up every spare coin her parents or siblings toss her way—and checking the locker rooms at the end of each business day for dropped coins and bills. Lost, forgotten, misplaced… she’s not picky.

“T-tuition?” the boy repeats, like it’s a foreign word.

Duy takes a knee to be closer to her eye level, though she won’t meet his eyes. “There is none, little flower bud. The Academy is free to all.”

That’s revolutionary, and not something she would have expected from the struggling economy in Konoha.

“Are the admission requirements strict?”

“Not at all!” he professes, then tones down his voice again. Considerate. “The admission requirements are thus: love the village and hope to help preserve peace and prosperity; have a mind that will not yield, be able to endure hard work and training; be healthy in mind and body.”

She considers. She can do all that—she’s been doing her grandfather’s qigong and tai chi routines since she could walk again.

“So, anyone meeting the requirements is welcome to attend?” there must be a limit, of course.

“Well, my young bud, there is one small caveat…”

“You gotta pass the entrance exam!” the boy, Guy, exclaims.

“Is it difficult? I can read and write and do arithmetic.”

Guy shakes his head back and forth, glossy black hair whipping his face. “Not those kinds of tests. Shinobi test!”

Oh, she thinks. The Academy is for the ninja folk then—but Might Duy said anyone could attend.

“Ninja tests then. Like, walking on water?” and walls—it sounds bizarre, but she’s seen it done. “I don’t think I can do that…”

“Nothing quite so advanced!” Might Duy assures her. “There’s the standard written exam, of course—just a few questions and a short essay. Then there are practicals.”

She nods. Sounds pretty standard. Duy continues.

“One must show an adequate understanding of taijutsu, ninjutsu, and genjutsu. Sufficient proficiency in any of these three areas will earn you a place at the Academy.”

He’s a ninja himself, so she’ll take his word for it—even if he’s supposedly not a very good one.

“So, taijutsu—like martial arts? I know a little. What about ninjutsu and genjutsu?”

Duy is studying her rather seriously now, turning her over in his head like a sour candy. A lot of adults find her rather unpalatable. She thinks Duy is stumped by her rather articulate questions. Not something one normally expects from a five-year-old.

“My young bud—am I correct in assuming you would like to join the Academy? This isn’t just a passing curiosity?”

She nods. “Yes.”

“You’re this establishment’s young daughter, are you not?”

She nods again.

Duy’s mustache twitches. He’s considering her again. 

“What do you know about shinobi, my little bud?”

She draws her shoulders up in a small shrug—a self-indulgent gesture. Her parents hate it when she does it.

“Not much,” she admits.

“Do you know what chakra is?”

Well—it depends on who’s asking. She assumes it must be like the chi—the qi—from her grandfather’s study of tai chi and qigong. 

“It’s energy that flows through the body.”

“Very good! Do you know how to mold it?”

She thinks. Her qigong and tai chi routines teach her how to circulate, cultivate, and balance it… but ‘mold’ sounds far removed from it. She shakes her head. No, she does not know how to mold chakra.

“No.”

Duy strokes his chin whiskers.

“Hm, well, it is difficult to grasp, even for one as youthful as I!”

And there it is, Might Duy’s eccentricity is showing. It’s intense, but she finds it kind of sweet too. An acquired taste, maybe.

“Will knowing about chakra help me understand ninjutsu and genjutsu?”

“Indeed! Ninjutsu are ninja techniques, like the transformation, body replacement, and clone techniques. Genjutsu is a bit more complicated, as it deals with casting and breaking illusions. These techniques all require molding chakra.”

“So, I’ll have to be really good at taijutsu to pass… When is the entrance exam?”

Duy purses his lips.

“It’s tomorrow!” Guy shouts, jumping and punching the air. He’s very excited.

“I see.”

She gets the full details from Might Duy and returns to her room. She lies face down on the floor.


	3. the Academy entrance exam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Honōka arrives on time, or just early enough to watch the other kids and their guardians sign up for the entrance exam. They’re all recognizable as ‘ninja folk’. She’s worried she needs a parent's permission or signature—that would make sense—but there are a number of kids that are clearly signing up by themselves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Chapter 3 Audio](https://honokaforkonoha.tumblr.com/post/644342291075612672/yujina-the-academy-entrance-exam)

She gets up in the morning at her usual time—when she hears the boiler room kick into action. It’s right below her room. Then she eats leftover rice and adds miso paste to a cup of boiled water.

She decides to take the Academy entrance exam.

  
Honōka arrives on time, early enough to watch the other kids and their guardians sign up for the entrance exam. They’re all recognizable as ‘ninja folk’. She’s worried she needs a parent's permission or signature—that would make sense—but there are several kids that are clearly signing up by themselves.

She approaches the desk and a ninja in a bulky green vest with rectangular glasses gestures for her to come forward.

“Are you here with a guardian?”

“No.”

He pushes a stack of sheets her way.

“Do you need help filling these out?”

“No, thank you.”

She takes them to an empty table and picks a fountain pen out of a cup. Mostly, it’s a disclaimer. It’s…well. The less said, the better she’ll feel. She knew going to a ninja academy wasn’t go to be a walk in the park. She’s entitled to a genin apartment though, should she need it, which is neat. She signs off on the document and brings it back to the man at the desk.

He looks it over, surprised approval curling on his lip. “Nice handwriting, kid.” He takes up his pen, tapping it in a corner. “Let’s see… Tsunemori Honō… or would it be Enka?”

Ack. She thought so. For whatever reason, hiragana and katakana are favored over kanji. She’s seen her brother spell their last name in hiragana, and his first name, Ichimaru, in katakana.

“Tsunemori Honōka is correct.”

He writes it down at the top of her signed document. 

“Do you like calligraphy, Honōka-kun?”

She considers.

“It’s okay.”

He laughs.

“Kind of boring, right?”

She nods.

He accepts her forms and puts them in a box with the others, then he gives her a slip of paper with her name (spelled how is common) and a number.

He points to a door. “Go on in and take seat number twenty-two.”

She follows his direction and is ushered into a very large classroom by another man, also wearing a bulky green vest. There are three seats to a desk. Hers is the outside chair at the eighth desk, near the middle of the room.

She’s feeling a bit nervous now. She knows how to read and write, but she knows next to nothing about ninja or being a shinobi.

A few short minutes later, the classroom is nearly full. A boy with goggles runs in panting and the two men in the bulky green vests follow behind, shutting and locking the door.

They hand out the written examination, face down and with the instruction to keep it that way until they say so. No one peeks—which is surprising. Everyone here is five years old, or thereabout. She can’t remember if five-year-olds are supposed to be this well behaved. 

“Turn your exams over. You may begin.”

Everyone turns their exams over. Well. It is a different world.

She reads the entire exam before she answers a single question and is relieved to find it’s mostly common sense… maybe. The math questions are simple. The parts concerning this world’s history (which she doesn't know) she writes ‘I don’t know’.

The essay is hit or miss—it asks her what one thing she would change about their village if she could.

She considers and goes with universal education. Knowledge is power, and the more people in the village with a higher level of education would mean greater leaps and bounds in the village’s infrastructure, as well as new innovations in existing trades and occupations. She finishes with ‘This one change would encourage many changes, for the better.’.

The hour ends and the exams are collected, regardless of completion or not.

Next, they explain a simple exercise, dubbed the leaf sticking exercise. It’s concentration practice.

The examiners hand out the leaves, and everyone tilts their head back to balance their leaf first. A few kids just stick it to their forehead, where it remains, as if glued.

Hers keeps slipping off, and the examiners are making rounds, tilting some heads up straight to see if it really sticks or not.

She thinks of tai chi, and how even in movement there is stillness. Her desk mate nudges her with a stray elbow and her leaf shoots (propelled?) halfway across the classroom. The examiner closest to her writes something on his clipboard and gives her a new leaf. Her cheeks feel hot.

They’re only given about fifteen minutes to demonstrate their ability with the leaf sticking exercise, after which they are herded outside. She is unable to make the leaf stick in that time.

Another class of kids are just heading back to the classroom across from them. The year ahead, most likely.

Taijutsu is up next. Might Guy yells excitedly when the examiners announce it.

The examiners line them up before going around with padded targets, giving everyone a chance to punch then kick it. Some kids go the extra mile and strike ferociously multiple times. Honōka punches hard and lands a solid kick. Better to just show that she knows how to make a single hit matter.

Guy is extra, _extra._

Then they pair everyone off. Half the exam group goes to one examiner, and the other half to the second.

Guy gets paired up with a smaller boy with silver grey hair wearing a mask covering his face from the bridge of his nose down. She wonders if it’s comfortable.

And she’s worried for the smaller boy—until he flattens Guy in two strikes.

She pays attention to her own spar then. She’s up against a boy with cool hair, who until just then was waiting for her to make the first move.

He doesn’t seem to want to hit her all that bad, so she jūdō throws him. The examiner calls their match.

They switch up the pairs, and she ends up against the small boy. She bows to him.

The examiner says go and the boy charges at her—fast! She lifts her leg in a sharp axe kick and he catches it across his forearm and shoulder without flinching. He’s not bracing his face.

Between one thought and the next, she jumps off, using the anchor point to pivot and nails him in the jaw with the side of her other foot.

She hits the ground on the flat of her back and is quickly up again. The boy recovers slower, picking himself up while holding his face, stunned.

The examiner with the glasses inserts himself between the two of them, calling their match. He moves onto another set of kids, and she offers her hand to the boy to help him up. 

He eyes her hand warily, but takes it. He backs away after finding his feet and stubbornly does not rub his jaw. 

The examiners announce the next part of the exam: ninjutsu. They ask the kids to perform one of three techniques—Henge no Jutsu, Kawarimi no Jutsu, or Bunshin no Jutsu.

She doesn’t know the first thing about any of these techniques, but she’s not the only one.

Guy attempts a bunshin, but nothing happens. The boy from before makes two identical clones appear. The examiner gets to her and she shakes her head.

Eventually, they get through the entire group and are brought back to the classroom where they take their seats again.

“Alright! This is the last portion of the exam. Genjutsu!” the man with the glasses is very enthusiastic about this. Whether it’s because it’s the end or something else, Honōka wouldn’t know. “We’re going to cast a very general genjutsu on you all now. Those who are able may break the illusion using Genjutsu Kai. All this technique requires is for you to disrupt your flow of chakra. Anyone can do it if they try hard enough!”

The other examiner sighs out loud. “If you can’t do it, but recognize that you’re in a genjutsu, do your best to raise your hand. Half the battle is recognizing when you’ve been put under a genjutsu.”

Then, he makes a series of complex gestures with his hands—seals—and most of the class goes doe eyed.

A few kids immediately raise their hands, index and middle fingers up, and either say ‘kai’ or just focus. Guy’s head droops and he folds over his desk, mouth wide open. A few more kids raise their hands, still looking unfocused.

The examiners are writing on their clipboards again. Honōka scrunches her eyebrows together. She… can’t tell if this is an illusion or not. Has anything changed?

They start from either side of the room, saying ‘pass’ or ‘fail’ to the kids one by one. Those who broke free pass—those who rose their hands also pass. Anyone still staring off into the distance or outright asleep fails. They have to tap those kids on the shoulder to break them out of it.

The examiner with the glasses gets to her and taps her on the shoulder. “Fail.”

“Excuse me, what was the illusion?” she asks. It must have been something subtle, right? Maybe an extra student, or something? Was she also looking around in a daze?

The examiner’s lips turn down a smidgen and shows a touch of confusion.

“Well, it varies person by person—it should have been something comforting to you, something that would make you content to let your guard down. It’s why some people fall asleep.”

She frowns.

“Nothing changed though.”

The examiners glance at each other. The entire group is out of the illusion now, and several kids are looking at her curiously.

The taller ninja shrugs and takes a stance in front of her. He makes deliberate eye contact that she struggles to keep as he makes two hand seals.

But nothing happens. She counts fifteen seconds before he asks her if there’s anything.

“Nothing changed.”

“Well, that’s weird.”

The examiners look at each other again.

“Pass?”

“Pass,” the other agrees, “definitely pass.”

That’s a relief, considering she couldn't do anything for the ninjutsu aspect of the exam. It’s all down to how well she did on the written exam, her taijutsu skills, and whatever this was.

They announce the exam is over, and that the results will be posted in three days' time. Class will begin the week after—the second week of April.


	4. Your name is?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Monday comes and no one asks her where she’s going, or has anything for her to do. Luckily, her parents and siblings don’t expect much help from her as a five-year-old. Alternatively, they think she’s a bit weird and don’t trust her to actually help.

On the third day she heads back to the Academy, hoping there wasn’t a particular time she's supposed to go or anything. She forgets the little details, sometimes.

She arrives later than most, but in time to see a teary-eyed but fiercely determined Guy walking away with his father. The small silver boy from the exam calls out to him, asking for his name.

Guy’s smile _blooms_ , and for a second he’s just as intensely sweet as his father. He shouts out his name, and she doubts the smaller boy will forget it.

Ah—Guy must not have gotten in then. Her heart hurts for him.

What are the chances she got in? She doesn’t have the advantage of being raised a ninja like Guy. She did well in taijutsu and genjutsu though…

She trails after the silver-haired boy and his father. He must be—they’re identical, or will be in a few years.

She thinks most people have cleared off. It seems that way, at least. A group of kids in little more than rags are consoling each other. She overhears them saying they’ll share the apartments. Not all of them passed then.

She approaches the board with names posted and feels her chest tightening up. Then she recognizes her name, spelled in hiragana and katakana, as is the custom in Konoha. She lets out a long sigh.

Some kids have kanji in their last names, and some don’t. She puzzles over that for a moment. If she were to hazard a guess, it’s reserved for the ‘clan’ kids. Maybe. 

The boy looks her way after internalizing what her sigh meant.

“You got in then?” he glances at his father, then (acting rather put upon) asks her, “What’s your name?”

“Tsunemori Honōka-desu. Your name is?”

“…Hatake Kakashi.”

His father chuckles, voice warm and smooth. He’s the type of person she would have secretly admired as a teenager—but she’s not a teenager and instead finds herself jealous of Kakashi. His dad must be awesome. It feels like she’s barely said ten words to her own father. In both lives.

“This must be the one who gave you that bruise, huh?”

She wonders if it isn’t weird that there’s a twinkle in the man’s smile as he says that. 

Kakashi touches his cheek. If there is a bruise, his mask is hiding it well.

“Ah,” she says, “sorry.”

He quirks an eyebrow at her, silently asking her what she’s even apologizing for. Kakashi’s father just laughs at them, like the awkward little children they are.

She glances up and away. It’s after midday. If she hurries, she can catch the next batch of fresh manjū at Ichiban Manju.

She half waves, half bows at them. “See you in class, Kakashi-kun.”

The weekend passes both quickly and slowly. There was no list for supplies posted, so she has nothing to prepare, other than her wardrobe. 

She wears mostly yukata or kosode around the house and out and about. She also has monpe pants that she wears with her kosode sometimes, and a jinbei set. In winter she has a padded hanten jacket. All very traditional hand-me-downs, and totally antiquated. 

Most the ninja folk wear more practical and modern clothing. It’s like the civilian population hasn’t caught up yet. 

She’d like to buy new clothes for the Academy, but she doesn’t even know where the ninja folk get their clothes. She’ll have to ask her new classmates. Until then, she’ll make do. She hopes the first day of class won’t be too intense—she only has tatami sandals.

Monday comes, and no one asks her where she’s going, or has anything for her to do. Luckily, her parents and siblings expect little help from her as a five-year-old. Alternatively, they think she’s a bit weird and don’t trust her to help.

She arrives at the Academy and follows the signs ushering the new students into classroom number one.

She kind of feels like she’s gone to school in her pajamas, compared to the other kids in their almost modern style clothing. She’s the only one noticing her discomfort, though.

Kakashi is sitting in the back, and while he has a pleasantly warm and staticky presence that mutes out others, she sits at the front. She’ll need to pay absolute attention in class.

The bell rings and their teacher, the examiner with the rectangular glasses, addresses them all. His name is Matsuya Jūn. He’ll be their teacher until they graduate, barring any unforeseen circumstances. He begins roll call. Only one student is absent—Uchiha Obito. A girl with purple markings on her cheeks facepalms.

Jūn-sensei begins by passing out a sheet that outlines their entire curriculum, an honest to God (Sage?) learn-all-this-and-you-graduate kind of sheet. It’s not even double sided.

Then they’re told that all their resources on taijutsu, ninjutsu, and genjutsu, do not leave the Academy under any circumstance. Studying is for Academy hours only.

He breaks down their day-to-day scheduling next—which is more or less the same every _single_ day. Shinobi work is apparently all about repetition. It’s very ‘don’t practice until you get it right, practice until you can’t get it wrong’.

There’s history and math and science and language—but they’re all very basic. There’s also kunoichi class, which is just… _really?_

“But put that aside for the moment,” Jūn-sensei says. “Let’s do some introductions! Likes, dislikes, anything about yourself you’d like to tell your new classmates. Go!”

It’s pretty standard. She halfheartedly learns her classmates' names.

“Hatake Kakashi. I have likes and dislikes. That is all.”

Honōka almost laughs. He said that with a straight face, huh? She’s sure he’s holding it in.

“I’m Nohara Rin! I like strawberries and dislike tsukudani. I collect shells, so let me know if you see any nice ones! Let’s all be friends!”

Ahh. She’s bright, but soft somehow. Soothing maybe. Not so intense as Duy and Guy.

Eventually it’s her turn.

“My name is Tsunemori Honōka. My favorite color right now is… green. I like gyōza, but not the deep fried kind. My family owns and operates a bathhouse.”

There’s a palpable taste of surprise in the air.

“Tsunemori-ya? That bathhouse?” someone asks.

“Yes.”

“You’re a civilian?!” someone else shouts.

A few kids (the orphans) don’t see what the big deal is. Likewise, Honōka agrees. But she kind of got the feeling that the ninja and regular people were separate, intentionally.

Jūn-sensei settles down the class rather hurriedly. He tells them to behave and sit quietly before instructing her to follow him. There’s a worried edge to his jaw. He seems like a nail-biter.

They head upstairs to the part of the building that has the kanji for fire displayed on the outside. He asks another shinobi in a bulky green jacket to see Sandaime-sama. The Hokage. Uh-oh.

After half an hour of sitting outside and feeding on each other’s snowballing anxiety, they’re finally admitted.

The Sandaime Hokage, Sarutobi Hiruzen, sits behind a desk perhaps slightly too large for him. He smokes a pipe and his sun wizened skin is developing faint liver spots.

Jūn-sensei bows and she awkwardly dips as well.

He greets them around his pipe, eyes sliding over them, no doubt puzzling over why a teacher and student are standing before him before class has even begun.

“Sandaime-sama… There’s been a slight misunderstanding.” Jūn-sensei takes a deep breath to confess. “We’ve admitted a civilian child without parental permission.”

The Hokage glances at her, and there’s a tired but faintly amused gleam in his eyes.

“And how did that happen?”

“Er, well, she signed herself up for the Academy entrance exam using the forms we provide for orphans, Sandaime-sama.”

“Who provided the child with the forms?”

“…I did, Sandaime-sama.”

The Hokage chuckles then, smoke curling around his lips. He rests his pipe in the grove on his tobacco box and interlaces his fingers on top of the desk.

“My apologies, Sandaime-sama. She came without her guardian and I just assumed…”

Ah. Well, that explains several parts of the document—like the genin apartment provided in lieu of a legal residence, and the option for support funds, etc.

The Hokage leans forward, focusing on her.

“Child, what is your name?”

“Tsunemori Honōka-desu.”

“Honōka-chan, eh? A good name for a daughter of the Land of Fire. How old are you, Honōka-chan?”

“I’m five years old, Hokage-sama. My birthday is on June eighteenth.”

“And does your family _truly_ not know you have come to attend the Academy today?”

She nods.

“And where do you expect your parents think you are right now? They must get concerned when you are gone for so long?”

She deadpans, because she doesn’t think much of her parents’ child-rearing skills.

“I think they think I’m playing with the neighbors.”

He does not miss the undercurrent in her tone of voice, by the twitch of his lip.

“Honōka-chan, why did you enter the Academy without telling your parents? Surely this is something they would have wanted to discuss with you?”

She frowns.

She didn’t tell them because she’s just about twenty now, even if she is technically a fifteen-year-old who woke up in an infant’s body one day and had to start over from nothing.

“I didn’t tell them because they’re busy running the family business.”

He raises an unimpressed eyebrow and silently calls her out on her bullshit.

“…and I don’t think they would understand what I was asking for.” Which is only slightly closer to the truth.

“Do _you_ understand what you’re asking for, Honōka-chan?”

She looks up at the ceiling and frowns. Huh.

“I understand the Academy is a military resource and that I’m volunteering to become a solider, Hokage-sama.”

She tears her eyes back down. There’s a cooler glint in the Hokage’s eyes now. Measuring. She glances away.

“What I’m asking for, is a chance to learn more about my village and the world around me. I have so many questions, and I’m looking here because no one else would help me find the answers.”

He looks thunderously serious, then laughs unexpectedly. 

“A precocious child for sure… I suppose I should send someone to inform your parents of your determination to become a shinobi?”

She bows, grateful, tension letting out of her chest. “Thank you, Hokage-sama.”

He waves her off. He doesn’t feel this is something that needs thanking, then.

“I look forward to watching you grow, Honōka-chan, and I hope you find the answers you seek.”

As they leave, he asks the room for her exam results and essay. The door shuts behind them and Jūn-sensei brings her back to the classroom.

“Does everyone know everyone now?” he asks. Lots of nodding. “Good, good.”

She takes her seat again and Jūn-sensei finishes the introductions and touches on the curriculum guidelines again. He dismisses them then—it’s only their first day anyhow. They don’t have an entrance ceremony. He reminds them to collect their acceptance letters on the way out.

Nohara Rin collects Uchiha Obito’s as well, with a little cajoling. 

“Ah, Honōka-kun, if you’ll wait at the door, please.”


	5. (yes, the shinobi one)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The mornings will be dedicated to theory,” he reminds them, “afternoons will be for practical work. Personal study is open for two hours after class. Kunoichi classes are an hour after class on Wednesdays until further notice.”

Jūn-sensei accompanies her home to explain to her parents why their daughter is suddenly enrolled at the Academy (yes, the _shinobi_ one) and that no, she can’t just drop out. Wartime stipulations and all that.

Her parents accept it all too easily—they already have their heir and marrying off two daughters is expensive enough. Jūn-sensei has a complicated sour expression after overhearing their whispers. Shinobi seem to have better-than-average hearing, but Honōka doesn’t have to hear what they’re saying to know.

Ichimaru, her Ichi-nī, is more indecisive about his feelings on it, but Honōka is an unusually independent child. He justifies the whole situation by reasoning she knows what she wants, five years old or not.

Sachiko is already married, so she’ll have to be informed later (if ever).

Mikumo is actually worried, and kind of upset she didn’t talk to him first. He doesn’t know much about ninja, but he knows more than a _literal_ child. That's what she is. A child.

Manaka, his twin, is so far in the other direction that she settles on icily indifferent, and refuses to comment at all.

So, with all parties concerned informed, Jūn-sensei takes his leave and her time as an Academy student officially begins.

The next day dawns, and she’s back in her preferred seat at the front of the classroom.

The kids around her are already gossiping about her, but it’s nothing malicious, which is pleasantly surprising. 

Jūn-sensei arrives and calls them to attention.

“The mornings will be dedicated to theory,” he reminds them, “afternoons will be for practical work. Personal study is open for two hours after class. Kunoichi classes are an hour after class on Wednesdays until further notice.”

First up is math, then language, then several other relevant subjects. It’s four hours of cram-everything-in-as-fast-as-possible.

Thin notebooks and cheap pencils are provided for each subject. Most questions are addressed on the blackboard.

Honōka is confident that theory will mostly be easy—she’s already been through elementary and middle school once before.

Of course, there is a difference between what is easy for her and what is easy for others. Jūn-sensei calls on her in math to solve a question and she puts herself out there with what she thought was simple math.

She uses Pythagorean theorem and an improvised astrolabe to answer the question on determining the distance between a projectile and its origin. Jūn-sensei’s head is spinning at the end of her explanation.

“That’s… That’s very advanced, Honōka-kun. There is a simpler way to answer this question—”

“That’s okay. My way is faster for me, sensei.”

Jūn-sensei just sighs, having the good sense to recognize a pointless battle when he sees one. “Moving on…”

This happens several times. Obviously, the first few times are more or less forgivable. When it keeps happening some of her classmates get understandably frustrated.

“What a know it all…” one girl mutters as she once again uses an advanced method to solve a basic question. She thinks she should probably stop volunteering her answers, even if they are right and no one else is answering, anyway.

They move onto language, which deals more with how to write mission reports, recognizing coded messages, hand signs (not seals), among other things. They’re given a scenario to write a coded message for. She uses kanji that have common short forms (flower can be read as ‘ka’ as well as ‘hana’) to compose a hidden message with poetry.

Jūn-sensei reads her message, and she swears his eyebrow is twitching.

“N-nice efforts, Honōka-kun.”

Ah, right. Jūn-sensei doesn’t like kanji.

He gets to Kakashi and nods appreciatively. “Very good, Kakashi-kun—looking beneath the hidden.”

Uchiha Obito, who missed the entrance ceremony she crashed yesterday (and who was once again late to class this morning), attempts to hide his message. He’s not finished, but is that any reason to block a teacher from offering advice?

“Obito-kun…I’m not sure if it’s your spelling or your handwriting…would you like some practice sheets?”

The morning passes. Honōka is equally excited to apply her existing knowledge and embarrassed to be drawing unflattering attention to her oddness.

It’s lunchtime, and she sits at her desk with her bentō. It’s pilfered rice from home with a pickled plum and green tea manjū she bought on the way to class. There’s a fountain in the yard if she gets thirsty.

She’s about to dig in when Rin, the girl with the pretty purple marks on her cheeks, drags Obito to her desk.

“Hello! Do you mind if we eat with you, Honōka?”

She nods. That’s another thing she hasn’t gotten used to. Everyone uses each other’s first names here and rarely uses honorifics with their age mates.

“I’m Rin, and this is Obito! It’s nice to meet you!”

“Nice to meet you…” ahh, she can’t make herself say their names. Next time.

“Ne, Honōka, you’re really smart, right?”

“…?” well, “I guess.”

She nods, satisfied with her assessment. “I really like the way you tackle math! It makes sense to be efficient and quick rather than puzzling out all those different steps. Could you teach me how to do it your way?”

Honōka opens and closes her mouth a couple times.

Rin tones down the coaxing smile. “Ah, if it’s too much trouble—”

“No! It’s not… You just surprised me, is all.”

“You’ll teach me then?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Yatta! Thanks so much, Honōka-chan!” She stops herself, and rather cutely sticks just the tip of her tongue out. “Is it fine if I call you Honōka-chan?”

She nods mutely.

Obito is awkwardly making darting eye contact behind Rin.

“Hey, Honōka, can you teach me too? Maybe not the math, but the writing? Baa-chan’s eyes aren’t the greatest anymore and it’s hard to pick out her handwriting.”

Ack. This is why she should really tone it down. She’s going to have a bunch of kids looking for tutoring!

But…she didn’t really have many friends in her life before.

“Sure. When is a good time for you guys?”

Obito perks up, and the difference is like night and day. He throws his hands behind his head, absently playing with his goggles as he goes on about his schedule. He’s a totally different person when he smiles, she thinks.

Rin peeks at her lunch and frowns. Then she’s opening her own bentō and quickly depositing some kind of braised meat into Honōka’s rather meager bentō.

“Honōka-chan, does your family eat much meat?”

“Ah, just fish, really.”

“You should tell them to add more protein to your diet! Being a shinobi is hard work and you’ll need all the protein you can get!”

“…that makes sense. I’ll tell them…” or, it’s something she’ll likely have to deal with on her own. If she’s not around for mealtimes, there’s little she can do—she has no idea how to operate the absolutely archaic kitchen at home.

Obito has noticed her disaster of a bentō and dutifully drops a piece of tempura fried shrimp in her box.

It’s…kind of nice. She likes it.

And then lunch is over, and they head outside to start their practicals.

They start with jogging and stretching. Jūn-sensei wants them all to be as flexible as possible—good flexibility saves lives, or so he tells them.

It’s the usual kind of gym class routine, honestly. Can you touch your toes? And all that other stuff. Sensei goes around to each kid sitting and reaching for their toes and pushes them down to see if they can kiss their knees yet. Honōka can already; a lot of kids can. Obito is having trouble, though.

After that they begin learning the Academy kata, which has several kids complaining.

“I don’t want to hear it, you lot!” Jūn-sensei shouts. “Think of it this way if you must; enemy shinobi can recognize the clan styles some of you already know. You don’t want to start a fight by giving away your strengths and weaknesses!”

That has them complying. Mostly.

So, they learn a few basic punches and kicks, how to disarm an opponent, and various joint locks. Then they’re told to never attempt that against a stronger opponent. 

Which is a segue into projectiles—shurikenjutsu. That includes shuriken, kunai, and senbon.

They’re introduced to these weapons and the proper ways to hold them, store them, and draw them. There will be no throwing them, yet. Jūn-sensei wants to see everyone comfortable handling them first.

After that, more jogging, and then some light strength training.

Finally, the day is over.

Honōka heads back to the classroom to get her things. She’d like to stay and study—but she doesn’t really know what to study yet. 

She has other plans anyhow. She brought her allowance. All of it.

“Honōka-chan!” Rin calls out. “Today was fun, right? What are you doing now?”

She considers.

“I’m going shopping.”

“What for?” Obito asks.

“Stuff…equipment?”

“Oh! Are you looking for shinobi gear?”

She nods. She made do with her tatami flip flops, but it’d be easier if she had sneakers or those open toe boots everyone in class seems to favor. 

“My parents run a shinobi apparel store! Would you like to come over?” Rin grins. “You won’t get a better deal anywhere else!”

So, Honōka goes with Rin after school. Obito goes straight home. He promised his grandmother.

They arrive at Rin’s home, which is a small family sized apartment above a shinobi apparel store in a part of the village that Honōka scarcely knew existed.

Rin leads them in through the back door where she greets her father. 

“I’m home, Otō-san! I brought a friend over!”

Her father waves from where he’s sitting at the counter, repairing a tool pouch. Honōka immediately notices that he’s missing a leg.

“Welcome home, Rin. How was the Academy?” he glances over his shoulder and notices that Honōka is not Obito. “Who’s your new friend?”

“Tsunemori Honōka-desu.”

“Ah, well met. Just call me Sō-ji, or Sōji-san. That’s what most of Rin’s friends call me.”

“…”

“Otō-san, Honōka-chan is looking for some new equipment for class. Any recommendations?”

Rin’s father scrutinizes her appearance for a few seconds.

“New shoes, first of all.”

She expected that.

“What kind of budget are we working with here, kid?”

She takes out her little purse, something she won at a festival. It’s shaped like an octopus and is chock full. She dumps it on the counter and Rin’s father counts it with practiced ease.

“These your life savings, or something?”

She nods. “I can start saving again later.”

He hands her back a couple thousand ryō. Enough to cover her snack hobby for a week at least. Or maybe she should consider adding more protein to her diet, like Rin suggested.

“We’ll work with this first. Go pick out a pair of shoes. They’re all the same, more or less. I recommend anything over the ankle, but keep in mind the taller the boot, the more expensive it is.”

She nods and starts looking. They’re arranged by size, so that helps, and most are black or navy. A few outlandish colors are mixed in… but she goes with black.

“Alright. You have enough for… Two pairs of pants, two shirts, a jacket… I’ll throw in compression bandages for free—”

“Socks?” she asks.

Rin’s father gives her a funny look. “A pack of six pairs of stirrup socks. Knee-high or over the knee?”

“Knee-high, please.”

“Black or navy?”

“Black.”

She goes about picking out her clothes while Rin’s father hops around the counter to get the compression bandages and the socks. He can’t be bothered to use his crutch, which Honōka spots next to the back door. 

She goes with two pairs of grey pleated shorts—cute, longish, and kind of stylish. They have deep pockets. Pockets are good. For her shirts she picks long sleeve navy turtlenecks. There’s a lot of them and in every size. The material is both dense and stretchy, but cool to the touch. She likes them.

She pauses in front of the coat rack. Most of them are the typical black raincoat—the type that makes you look like a shapeless blob when you put them on. 

_“Tomoe-chan, I wish you would wear a brighter coat. No one is going to see you in this dreary weather wearing that old thing.”_

Her hand hovers over black. 

She grabs a shapeless white and lemon yellow tarp-like coat that’s sizes too big. It has an abstract pattern of triangles alternating between large and small, white and yellow. It’s so ugly it might actually be cute.

Rin’s father chuckles—but it isn’t a judging kind of laugh. Amused, maybe.

He packs up her purchase for her, lips pulling up as he attempts to fit the outrageously oversized coat with the rest.

“These’ll last you a little while. Training at the Academy usually isn’t too hard on the wardrobe. But, if you do manage to rough it up, swing by with Rin. Most wear and tear is repairable.”

She nods. Rin has a question bubbling in her chest, but she doesn’t ask it in the end.

“Thank you very much…Nohara-oji-san. These clothes will be much more comfortable.”

He snorts at her, a rough sound with no sharp edges. “Hey, get good and it won’t mater what you wear. I’ve seen the Slug Princess kick ass in heels, and Sage knows Jiraiya wears those damn ugly geta everywhere he goes. I swear, they’re competing for who can wear the most outrageous outfits into battle.”

Who…? She doesn’t know either of those people and says so.

Rin gasps.

“You don’t know about Tsunade-hime?! She’s only the most amazing kunoichi ever, versed in both medical ninjutsu and battle ninjutsu! She’s one of the three legendary shinobi of our village!”

“Densetsu no Sannin?”

“Un! Tsunade-hime, Jiraiya-sama, and Orochimaru-sama! They were a team after graduating from the Academy!”

It sounds interesting.

“Tell me all about it sometime. I’ve got to go home now though.” If she misses supper she won’t have anything to put in tomorrow’s bentō.


	6. Please be my second rival!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “That’s it! Honōka, Obito! No more shurikenjutsu!” Jūn-sensei screeches at them. His glasses are crooked from yet again diving out of the way of either her or Obito’s shuriken. “Come here, both of you!”

Her first week at the Academy passes. She teaches math to Rin and attempts to understand why Obito writes half his characters backwards and the other half not much better.

Week two begins with three alternates being accepted into class. She perks up when she sees Guy. So he got in after all. Good for him, she thinks.

The morning classes pass the same as usual and she has lunch with Rin, Obito, and Yūhi Kurenai.

Might Guy walks up to her and bows low. Kurenai and Obito make faces. She’s not sure why they make faces at Guy when they’re not quite sure why they make them either. Guy is being perfectly polite.

“Tsunemori Honōka!”

She jumps in her seat, bangs her knee on the underside of the desk. He’s as intensely abrupt as ever.

“Congratulations on getting into the Academy!” he genuinely means it—is _happy_ for her. “You may have gotten a head start on me, but I will catch up!”

Silence.

She’s suddenly smiling, big and warm and _sweet._ Rin hauls on Obito’s sleeve to get him to look—she doesn’t smile often. Maybe this is the first time they’ve seen it.

“Thank you, Guy. Let’s both do our best.”

Then it’s time for practicals again. They begin with warm-ups, review the Academy kata, and finally spar.

They spar using the Academy kata only, and it’s awkward for her. After only a week, she’s just not grasping it.

Kakashi effortlessly beats her, so they swap her with someone on a lower level. Obito. He beats her too. He doesn’t pull his punches at all, which she appreciates.

Jūn-sensei is radiating confusion. She beat the Hokage’s son, Sarutobi Asuma, and the White Fang’s son, Hatake Kakashi, at the entrance exam.

He calls a stop.

“Honōka-kun, Guy-kun. Come forward.”

The rest of the class looks on, curious. There’s a bitter undercurrent of glee in some. It seems Honōka and Guy are not particularly well liked.

“Guy-kun hasn’t had much time to learn the Academy kata, and Honōka-kun is new to learning kata in general.” Jūn-sensei tells them. “I want you all to observe their personal fighting styles.”

“Yosha!” Guy exclaims. “Don’t hold back, Honōka! Let us have a youthful spar!”

She nods and assumes a balanced stance, arms lifted weightlessly. Sensei calls for them to begin.

Guy’s foot is coming at her face and she slides back and ducks to the side, quickly turning to keep him in sight.

He’s fast! And there’s no slip of concentration that she can use like with Asuma or Kakashi.

She catches the next kick between her arm and ribs but is unable to trap it. It nearly winds her just trying.

He switches to punches and she plays keep away, knocking his strikes aside with open palm jabs to his wrists and forearms. She’s aiming to grab on and throw him, but there’re no sleeves to hook into and her hands are too small—fingers too short—to wrap around his wrists.

They spin around and around like a marry-go-round. She doesn’t dare stop or turn away or wind up for a kick. He’s just too fast for her, and his hits are heavy—especially heavy for her untried body.

But he really is putting his all into this fight—maybe even a little _too_ much of his all.

He throws a punch wide and she steps into it, stopping him with a jab to the shoulder as she clamps her fingers onto his right bicep, gripping the left side of his neck and head. She jumps and scissors her legs around his arm and chest, twisting and bringing him down hard. She traps his right arm and pulls it taunt, locking it. A flying takedown and joint lock in one.

Guy gasps and taps her knee quickly.

Rin and Kurenai are almost screaming. Several of the other kids are whooping. Nothing gets shinobi kids excited like a good fight, apparently.

Jūn-sensei calls the match.

“So, as you can all see, having your own style can be easier—more intuitive. It’s what you’ve probably grown most used to. However, there may be weaknesses you forget to consider as you become more comfortable with your own styles.” He looks around. “Can anybody tell me what one of Honōka-kun’s weaknesses were?”

Everyone looks at each other. There are shrugs. Kakashi sighs.

“Honōka’s style depends on defensive counter strikes. She relies on either surprising an opponent with an unexpected takedown or wearing them down and getting inside their guard. She doesn’t have much variety in her move set—the longer she takes to tire out an opponent she can’t surprise, the more predictable she becomes.”

“Very good, Kakashi-kun. Who can tell me what Guy-kun’s weakness was?”

Crickets. Kakashi sighs, again.

“Guy has _too_ much variety. He had a lot of unnecessary moves that wore him down faster than his opponent, who fell back on one or two stances to receive or redirect all his strikes. He’d have to be a stamina monster to continue fighting at the pace he set for much longer.”

Jūn-sensei half grimaces, half smiles. _(Is_ he teaching monsters this year?!)

“Yes, very good, Kakashi-kun.” He clears his throat. “Now, how should Honōka-kun and Guy-kun improve?”

“Practice!” Guy shouts. Honōka nods emphatically. 

“Ah, yes. That would be one way. For Guy-kun, practicing so that his many moves become second nature. For Honōka-kun, practicing new moves.” Jūn-sensei is turning her form over in his head. “Speaking of, I’m not entirely familiar with your style, Honōka-kun. It reminds me of the monks at the Fire Temple. Do the monks at the village temple teach the steps as well?”

She considers. She did see them practicing something similar to tai chi. Not quite like what her grandfather taught her, but similar.

“They don’t teach it…” she asked the monks for further instruction on a couple things and didn’t get any help. “I’ve seen them practicing, though.”

“You learned all that from watching?!” Obito shouts, sounding equal parts incredulous, jealous, and awed. He feels a lot of things at once, most of the time.

“Yeah. I practice what I know every morning before class.” That hasn’t changed between her life before and her life now.

Guy makes an approving noise and shoots her a radiant thumbs up. “Honōka! You are a worthy adversary! Please be my second rival!”

“…” Second…? She wonders who the first is. “Okay.”

“Yosha! Let’s work hard, Honōka!” 

Guy offers out two fingers in the reconciliation seal. She takes them with a small smile.

“Un, let’s.”

That week, Jūn-sensei deems them ready to throw shuriken and other projectiles in their practical classes.

She can draw them and handle them fine, but the moment she tries to throw them everything goes wrong. It’s a good thing that, even as children, her classmates’ reflexes are good.

“That’s it! Honōka, Obito! No more shurikenjutsu!” Jūn-sensei screeches at them. His glasses are crooked from yet again diving out of the way of either her or Obito’s shuriken. “Come here, both of you!”

They do. He chews them out some more. And gives them a frisbee—a training disk.

“Practice throwing this to each other. When you can do that without potentially maiming anyone I’ll consider having you throw kunai.”

They sigh and go to the side to practice throwing the disk. They spend the rest of class jumping the Academy fence to retrieve said disk, over and over again.

“This sucks,” Obito complains. She nods.

Several weeks pass, with their first term coming to a head. They meet in the classroom after lunch for an introductory class on chakra and ninjutsu. Everyone is bouncing in their seats.

Jūn-sensei arrives. He’s carrying a stack of thick square sheets.

“I’ve got a special treat for you guys today!”

More cheers. What five or six-year-old kid doesn’t like hearing the word ‘treat’?

“I know some of you have trouble visualizing your chakra, and I agree; theory only takes you so far. Next semester we will officially begin studying ninjutsu and having a solid grip on molding chakra is absolutely crucial. So, today, we’ll be using these experimental seals to determine how everyone’s chakra is coming along.”

Jūn-sensei hands out the sheets, warning everyone to not mess them up before he’s ready to start.

“These paper seals are pretty simple—and genius! When you mold chakra in your hands and touch the seal, it will activate and indicate what ratio of physical chakra and spiritual chakra you currently possess. It also shows chakra density and output, or your quality and quantity. It’ll even show rotation…! Uzumaki’s got a seal for everything, I swear!”

He gives them a quick refresher on molding chakra in their hands and when he’s sure no one will blow holes in either their sheet (or their desk) he gives them the go ahead.

“Okay! Go wild, class, but not too wild! Mold your chakra in your hands and place them on the sheet. It’ll glow for a moment and record your results. We’ll review as a class.”

He gives them a couple minutes to get it to work before going around to help interpret results.

Kakashi, prodigy he is, gets one part yin chakra to two parts yang chakra, a stable 1:2 ratio. His chakra is high quality, and average quantity, and spins clockwise.

Obito’s is two parts yin chakra to one part yang chakra (a common Uchiha trait—their dōjutsu relies heavily on yin release), a stable 2:1 ratio. His chakra is below average quality and above average quantity. His chakra spins counter-clockwise.

Guy gets a 1:4 ratio of yin and yang chakra, lowest quality, low quantity. His spin is counter-clockwise. Jūn-sensei informs him he’s going to have a rough time getting any ninjutsu to work for him. Guy is just self-impressed with his large amount of yang, physical, chakra.

It’s Honōka’s turn—she’s figured out the leaf sticking exercise so she at least knows she can mold chakra now. She was able to activate the seal but…it looks pretty average. She kind of figured she wouldn’t be anything special. Oh well.

Jūn-sensei is suspiciously contemplative, though.

“That’s…really unusual, I think. One-to-one ratio of yin-yang chakra, on the nose. Average quality, average quantity. Clockwise rotation.”

Guy is confused on her behalf.

“Isn’t that just a lot of average?”

Kakashi sighs. He does that a lot.

“That’s not the point, Guy-kun.” Rin tells him. “Remember what we learned earlier? The goal is to have physical chakra and spiritual chakra as closely aligned as possible. Even though Honōka-chan seems average, having a one-to-one ratio means Honōka-chan can more efficiently draw out her maximum amount of chakra.”

It’s clearly not getting through to Guy. Kakashi sighs (again).

“It means that when you’ve used one fifth of your physical chakra, you’ll have already exhausted all your spiritual chakra. Most, if not all, jutsu require a blend of the two. Even water walking and tree walking, Guy. You’d be useless even if you still had most of your chakra.”

Obito abruptly lifts his head off the desk. He was sulking about the whole low quality thing.

“So, even though Honōka is a civilian with average chakra, she can use more than anyone else in class right now?! Sensei! How can I improve my ratio thing?!”

Jūn-sensei chuckles.

“It’s not as simple as you think, Obito-kun. Studying improves your spiritual chakra, and exercise improves your physical chakra. The thing is, your body naturally favors the production of one over the other.”

Confusion all around.

“But, Sensei,” Kurenai begins. “The scroll you showed us earlier said ‘If you lack Heaven, seek wisdom, be prepared.’ That’s for yin chakra, right? Then, ‘If you lack Earth, run in the fields, seek advantages.’ That must be for yang chakra. Finally, ‘If you have both Heaven and Earth, you may prevail under any circumstances.’ That means there is a way to have both equally, right?”

Jūn-sensei rubs his chin in that way that says he doesn’t have the full answer either.

“Yes, but even seasoned shinobi struggle with it—it takes time and dedication. Like, mastering throwing shuriken with both hands, or eliminating tells.”

Everyone looks at Honōka again.

“Ah, I guess Honōka-kun’s case _is_ unusual. As luck would have it, Honōka’s body favors neither physical nor spiritual chakra and develops both equally. It’s rare, I’m sure, but not impossible.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm bad at math stuff. I tried to research how ratio notation is supposed to work and all that stuff but it may have gotten deep, like over my head deep. If anyone notices something is wrong please tell me (T_T)


	7. Tachibana Tomoe is dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It feels like static, looks like shadow. Eigengrau. The color you see in absence of light. Intrinsic grey. Visual noise.

Summer vacation begins. They’re told to not slack off and do their best to stay in shape; to keep practicing molding chakra and the leaf sticking exercise. She takes it one step further and practices while doing her tai chi exercises. Which, while still difficult, becomes easier as the summer progresses.

She saves up her allowances again, though there’s been a notable decrease in the frequency, and eats with her family to save on snacking expenses. They pointedly do not ask her about the Academy. Or ask about much, really.

They don’t assign her chores at all anymore—no more requests to run messages to the old lady at the herb shop, or a few ryō to pick up tōfu… She makes peace with it and spends more time with Rin, Obito, and Guy.

Obito already knows a couple ninja techniques—one being the Great Fireball Technique. It’s clan specific though, a coming of age rite, so he won’t teach it to her.

He also knows, Katon: Ryūka no Jutsu, or Fire Release: Dragon Fire Technique.

“Ryūka no Jutsu is easier anyhow!” Obito tells her. “The seals are _Snake, Dragon, Rabbit,_ and _Tiger._ It’s a fire breathing technique, too!”

She practices the sequence a couple times while Obito tries to explain how to mold the chakra, which is just him making a lot of dragon noises and spitting everywhere… He has a very _unique_ way of explaining things.

With Guy, she attempts to keep up with his insane challenges. He’s named her his second rival, and she is determined to perform.

He challenges her to an all you can eat barbecue competition.

If they can eat the entire thing it’s free, and neither of them has the money to spare—so losing is not an option. They force themselves to eat everything, and it’s a tie in the end. 

She thinks it nearly killed her. Death by overeating, that’d be something.

She arrives at Rin’s place to see Obito and Guy waiting for her. She doesn’t think they had any plans to meet today—but she sometimes forgets minor details like that. They’re all wearing black, and Rin’s father is standing with his crutch.

She freezes in the doorway. Obito’s cheeks are tear stained. Oh. 

Honōka looks Rin’s father in the eye.

“Nohara-oji-san… Who died?”

Sōji purses his lips.

“Hatake Sakumo-dono.”

Kakashi’s father, the man with the gentle smile and warm laugh.

Rin rushes forward, hugging her tightly. Rin is taller than she is—her tears disappear into Rin’s shirt collar. Oh.

“Get changed…the funeral’s in an hour. Rin laid out an outfit for you upstairs.”

After numbly getting ready, they head to the Yamanaka’s flower shop to purchase a white chrysanthemum each to lay on Sakumo’s grave and attend the funeral together. Which is, honestly, rather sparsely put together. They stand a respectable distance from the front, where Kakashi is the only person in the first row at all. The Hatake Clan must not have any family members left.

She feels numb and more than a little heavy chested.

This…this is probably what she has to look forward to as a shinobi herself.

The service is brief, and almost too soon they’re called to lay the flowers on the grave. There are a few people standing around, just watching. They have no flowers to place or condolences to offer. The hairs on the back of her neck stand.

Tension is heavy in the air, and she asks herself why so few people are paying their respects to Hatake Sakumo. He’s a hero, isn’t he?

“Ahhh…he threw the mission and couldn’t deal with the consequences? He should have just died when he had the chance.”

Kakashi’s small shoulders tremble and stiffen, drawn tight like a bow with no arrow to loose. Honōka’s chest hurts.

“Can you blame him? I’d rather die than bear the shame of failure too.” Laughter. They’re laughing at _Sakumo._

Angry tears drip down her face. Her lip quivers and she doesn’t know how to direct these, _raw,_ overwhelming feelings. All she can think is that Kakashi can hear these pathetic rats chittering!

“What’s stopping you then?!” she yells at them, squeezing every last drop of vitriol she can from her lungs.

They zero in on her small form, uncrossing their arms and glaring at her. She chokes down her scalding fury, swallows it, and breathes it like fire.

“If you can’t bear the shame of doing the right thing, you have no right coming here to complain!”

One opens their mouth, and she glares through her burning tears. Acid wells up in her throat.

_“Leave!”_

Sōji clamps a hand on her shoulder, silently reeling her in with a steady pulse. _Cool it,_ he seems to caution. 

Her outburst got the point across and he is by no means admonishing her in front of these ungrateful idiots. He agrees with her, and they know it. So they take the hint and scram.

“Jeez, kid. Tone down the aura. You can’t just go projecting that much killing intent at allies.”

Rin, Obito, and Guy are shell-shocked—that was not the kind of reaction they expected from Honōka.

She scrubs her eyes and sniffles loudly.

“I’m sorry... It’s _not_ fair. I didn’t know Hatake-san well, but I could tell he was a good person. _It’s not fair_. Why do good people die for trash like them?” She struggles to hold back her sobs—Kakashi is the one who’s really hurting!

Of course, her crying is like a damn breaking and then Rin and Obito and Guy are crying too. Kakashi’s back remains to them, chin tucked to his chest. His tiny shoulders tremble.

Summer passes.

The first day back to class is odd. Honōka reasons it just feels weird to be back to a schedule after being without for so long.

She sits in her usual spot.

Kakashi sits in his usual spot.

Jūn-sensei enters and calls the class to order. Obito slams the door open with a hurried apology and outlandish excuse. Sensei barks at him to take a seat.

“First of all, welcome back. I see we’re all in one piece—good, good!” If his eyes linger on Kakashi, no one is the wiser—or they tactfully pretend to not notice. “This is term two. We’ll officially begin learning ninjutsu now. Ninjutsu theory will be right before lunch hour, and practicals will be directly after.”

He lists a couple other changes, then finishes what Honōka equates to homeroom period with one final announcement.

“Ah, and while I don’t expect this to apply to any of you yet, this term’s graduation exam can be challenged on September tenth. It takes place in the morning. If you wish to challenge, please inform me before class begins on that day.”

The morning passes, and ninjutsu theory is up.

“Alright, who’s been listening this year? What are the three ninjutsu you’re all required to learn before graduating?”

Kurenai raises her hand and answers. “Henge no Jutsu, Kawarimi no Jutsu, and Bunshin no Jutsu.”

“Right you are, Kurenai-kun.” Jūn-sensei sizes them up. “Does anyone know any other jutsu?”

Hands fly up.

“Obito-kun?”

“Gōkakyū no Jutsu…! And Ryūka no Jutsu!”

“Good, good! The Uchiha Clan are particularly well versed in those techniques.”

The kids name a few other jutsu.

“Very good! We’ll take a break for lunch now. After, we’ll be seeing some of these jutsu in practice!”

She eats lunch with Rin, Obito, and Guy. They take out their bentō and the three of them are about to put various things in her bentō, as is their custom.

She signs for them to stop using shinobi sign language. She (rather dramatically) reveals her bentō’s contents.

“Woah!” Obito exclaims. Rin claps.

“Honōka, my rival! Does this mean what I think?!”

She nods proudly.

“Mikumo-nī taught me how to use the kitchen over the break.”

“Who’s that?” Obito asks. “A neighbor?”

She looks at him funny.

“He’s my brother?” she did call him as such.

“What?! You have a brother??”

“I have several siblings.”

Her friends are in various states of shock. It seems most shinobi only have one or two kids. Big families are maybe not as common as she thought.

“Why didn’t you tell us?”

She’s more and more confused.

“You didn’t ask?”

Rin face palms and asks for the details. Rin makes it her business to know everything about her friends, after all.

“Ah. Well. There’s Ichi-nī—Ichimaru. He’s the oldest boy so he’s inheriting the bathhouse. Then it’s Sachiko, she’s already married and left the household; I haven’t seen her in a couple years. After her it’s the twins, Mikumo and Manaka. Mikumo-nī is apprenticing as a tool smith. Manaka helps Okā-san run the bathhouse. She’s getting married in two years time to a spice merchant’s son.”

Obito reels in his shock.

“Uwah! Honōka, you have a big family!”

She awkwardly plays with her bentō, poking the salty boiled yam until falls apart.

Rin considers her silence.

“They…don’t have much time for you, do they, Honōka-chan?”

Obito and Guy can’t believe she would outright say it. They’ve all kind of gotten an inkling of the inattention Honōka is used to—they just didn’t realize she had so many family members around to be giving it, and just…not.

She shrugs.

“They’re busy with the bathhouse, and I came after all my other siblings were raised.”

Rin frowns. Honōka can feel her frustration.

They say no more about it—and still give tribute to Honōka’s bentō.

After lunch they meet Jūn-sensei outside, where he promptly poofs away, leaving a training dummy in his place. He clears his throat and they all turn—there’s three of him! Then, two poofs and one is gone, and another reveals the teacher from across the hall, Shimozūki Tora-sensei.

Everyone is clapping, and Honōka is swamped by a wave of awe, excitement, and eagerness. She’s kind of feeling it too.

Jūn-sensei clears his throat again.

“Today, Tora-sensei will be assisting us.”

Everyone bows to Tora-sensei. He coughs.

“Ninjutsu is to be taken absolutely serious—as with anything dealing with chakra is. Ninjutsu requires you to use and mold chakra, but everyone has a finite amount. If you use it all, you die. Come close and you’ll have chakra exhaustion—and then you’ll wish you had died.”

Yikes, Tora-sensei. Scary.

“We’ll be starting with the transformation technique first—it requires the least chakra of the Academy Three to activate, moderate control, and a great deal of concentration. If you can get this jutsu to work the way you want it to, the other two will be simple.”

Jūn-sensei instructs them to think of something, or someone, they want to transform into.

“The seals are as follows: _Dog, Boar, Ram._ Line up in front of either Jūn-sensei or me. Equally! I don’t bite…jeez.”

Tora-sensei and Jūn-sensei call a student forward from each line. 

“Concentrate on what you want to transform into as you begin molding your chakra. Perform the seals accurately—speed can come later.” Tora-sensei advises.

Honōka watches the other kids attempt the jutsu. There’s a puff of smoke as they morph into what she assumes are not accurate representations of real people.

Jūn-sensei chuckles. “Don’t forget to consider things like height.”

“And weight. A true master of the transformation technique knows every detail of their transformation.”

Every detail, huh? Honōka thinks she can do that. After all, she used to be someone else, and who would she know most intimately, if not herself from before this life?

She’s confident until she hits a wall she hadn’t realized existed. Her eyebrows scrunch behind her messy bangs.

Tachibana Tomoe. What did she look like again?

It’s her turn. Her stomach drops.

What…what did Tachibana Tomoe look like?? It hasn’t been that long. (Six years.) She should be able to remember her own face.

…For the last six years, the face she’s worn and seen in reflections, is the face of Tsunemori Honōka. The fifth child of the Tsunemori family and always _the nail that sticks out_. The only dark-haired child in a family with light haired parents. _A child that does not resemble their parents is the child of an oni._

She…she had black hair and brown eyes…right? Before? 

“Honōka-kun?” Jūn-sensei asks.

“Sorry. I forgot what I was trying to imagine.”

“That’s fine. Go to the back of the line and think about it some more.”

163cm…51.6kg…

She thinks and thinks. She hated that she was in a little kid’s body for so long, but now it just is what it is. What did it feel like to be fifteen again? How long were her fingers? What was her shoe size?

Clothes? What were the colors of her gakuran? Ah, never mind that. Her favorite dress, the one with the bow. Blue, pale blue—with a white ribbon around the waist and a red bow on the neck. Standing barefoot in the koi pond…her hair was long, silky and straight, back then.

“Honōka-kun, you’re up. How’s your mental image coming?”

“…it’s okay.”

Her face, though? What did it look like again?

_Dog. Boar. Ram._

A flash of smoke and she feels herself melt from one form to the next—a small child to a teenage girl. A body that feels a little like a phantom limb. Something she should intimately know but doesn’t anymore.

There’s a couple frightened gasps and she frowns, or tries to. There’s nothing there to frown with. She touches her not-face. There really is nothing there—no eyes, no nose, no mouth. She can still see, still breathe, still speak… There just isn’t anything there.

It feels like static, looks like shadow. _Eigengrau._ The color you see in absence of light. Intrinsic grey. Visual noise.

“Ah… I think you forgot the face, Honōka-kun.”

“…I can’t remember what it looked like. I’m sorry, sensei.” Even the voice is oddly distorted, like it’s coming from the other side of a long corridor. If Jūn-sensei is creeped out by a voice coming from apparently nowhere, he doesn’t let on. 

“Don’t worry about it! Pick something a little easier next time, okay?”

“Props for the dress,” Tora-sensei praises. “I can see the weave and stitching.”

He uses that point to explain to the class that an insufficient mental image will result in transformations that lack detail. Clothing that looks like plastic instead of real cloth is common.

She looks at what she created with her non-eyes. It looks, feels, identical. Then, the illusion snaps like a rubber band stretched too thin. She goes to stand with Rin and Obito. Her tongue tastes funny.

Obito wordlessly grasps her hand as Rin wipes her tears before they can fall.

“Are you okay, Honōka-chan?”

“…I didn’t realize I was forgetting what—they—looked like.”

“Someone you used to know…? Are they…?”

Are they dead? Well…

She nods. 

Tachibana Tomoe is dead.

The rest of the week passes like an out-of-body experience.

Then it’s September tenth and she doesn’t even notice Kakashi isn’t in class until he’s coming in partway through the morning class, sporting the iconic hitai-ate of shinobi everywhere.

The class explodes in yelling and cheering and congratulations, and some kids shouting it's unfair. Obito doesn’t join them, but it’s a near thing.

He walks past her to give a sealed scroll to Jūn-sensei, then walks back.

They make eye contact for a split second and it’s the first time in what feels like a very long time that she doesn’t feel like she’s stuck inside her own head.

Kakashi walks out the classroom door, a genin, and Honōka takes a deep breath.

Right. _Tachibana Tomoe is dead_. It's time for Tsunemori Honōka to live.


	8. (she’s still pretty terrible at shurikenjutsu)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Honōka stands in front of Sarutobi Hiruzen, absently adjusting her new hitai-ate.

She learns the curriculum inside and outside. All the theory, all the practical skills (she’s still pretty terrible at shurikenjutsu), and the Academy Three.

The snow melts and she challenges the exam between Academy years. Obito tries and fails. Guy admits he’s not ready.

Jūn-sensei presents her with her hitai-ate. He pats her roughly on the shoulder. She thinks he wants to hug her.

“Good job, Honōka-kun. It was a pleasure teaching you.” He clears his throat. “Head on up to the Hokage’s office. Sandaime-sama has a special assignment for you.”

She takes a deep breath and nods.

Honōka stands in front of Sarutobi Hiruzen, absently adjusting her new hitai-ate. He’s looking at her final exam results…and her essay from the year before.

“A truly precocious child…” He’s said it before, he’ll say it again. “Tell me, Tsunemori Honōka—have you found your answers yet?”

She considers. Shakes her head.

“No, I don’t think I have, Hokage-sama.”

He chuckles, but soon goes back to quietly contemplating. He’s holding a scroll and is tapping the end against his desk.

He has something in mind for her, but is having second thoughts.

“Do you remember what you wrote in your essay last year, Honōka-kun? What one thing would you change about the village?”

She nods.

“I wrote about expanding education in the village, Hokage-sama.”

He nods, sagely.

“Indeed. A truly noble aspiration. And, after studying at the Academy for a year, do you now know why such a thing has not already been implemented in the village?”

Her cheek twitches. She knows. She doesn’t agree.

“Knowledge _is_ power, Hokage-sama. We must be selective about who has access to that power.”

He stops tapping the scroll, and his expression tightens.

“Do you agree, Honōka-kun?”

She looks at the ceiling again. She wonders who is listening. The Hokage chuckles, mirthlessly.

“Speak freely, Honōka-kun. Anbu Otter, at ease.”

“…” they drop from the ceiling and stand unobtrusively in a corner. There’s a twinge of self-consciousness at having been sussed out, twice, by the same kid.

“I don’t. Agree, that is.”

“Can you explain your reasoning?”

She considers.

“Putting aside how the non-shinobi population suffers from stagnation… The shinobi population has a large gap between mediocrity and genius. Family connections, clan connections, and other statuses largely determine a shinobi’s competence and worth. I think it’s unfair.

“A readily available source of knowledge would be the first step in leveling the playing field. Even something as simple as a public library would change so much in Konoha. And, if espionage is really such a concern, having a seemingly open avenue could be the perfect way to catch potential leeks.

“Further more, I think expanding education in Konoha will ease the friction between civilian and shinobi entities—that there’s even a distinction between the two in the first place is weird. We’re all citizens of the Land of Fire, all proudly members of the Village Hidden in the Leaves.”

He chuckles fondly, with a sour aftertaste that Honōka can’t quite identify. He thinks she’s being naïve. She pushes on. She wasn’t the chosen speaker for her incoming middle school class for nothing.

“Education is a beacon that will expand our horizons and chase away the lingering darkness of the Warring States Period. It is a beacon that will be lit regardless of any one person’s will—and, _when_ it is, I wonder what that light will reveal as it casts away the darkness.”

He startles, and his eyes burn.

“Darkness?” he asks. “What do you think will be revealed?”

“Things that the people of Konoha, civilian and shinobi, will not approve of, Hokage-sama. Things that would be very hard to be held accountable for.”

“…” 

He’s shrewdly taken a step back in his mind, privately sifting through his own feelings. Honōka thinks she’s hit the nail on the head.

“What makes you say that?”

What government doesn’t have skeletons in the closet? It only makes sense that a military state run by literal ninja would have a whole _catacomb_ —the concept ‘mass grave’ just doesn’t cover the organized nature of what she suspects is the underbelly of Konoha.

“I don’t think there would be a need to hide behind ignorance forever if there weren’t.”

Sarutobi Hiruzen sinks back in his chair with a long, tired, sigh. He tosses the scroll onto his too big desk.

“Life has not been kind to you, has it?”

She thinks of this life, and the last.

“It could have been much worse, actually.”

He snorts, unamused. It’s not a disapproving sound.

“Wise beyond your years then.”

“…” she doesn’t deny it.

“Very well. Come forward.”

She approaches. He looks pointedly at the scroll. It’s still her choice to make.

She picks it up.

“I’m assigning you to one of my previous students, as his apprentice.”

She looks at the scroll again. A letter of introduction, then.

“Orochimaru is one of three shinobi you may know by the title ‘Sannin’. He, along with Tsunade-hime and Jiraiya the Toad Sage, were my students some years ago.”

She nods, glad she took Rin up on explaining more of their respective lore's.

“Orochimaru, like yourself, was known as a genius in his youth. Still is, if we’re being perfectly correct. He may someday succeed me as this village’s kage… However, my student has grown jaded in his own quest for answers, and I worry what he gets up to with me tied to this chair. I’ve been asking for sometime now, that he take on a team of genin to break up the ennui—but he’s rather insistent that three youngsters will just get in his way.

“He has said nothing about one talented apprentice, though.”

She deadpans.

“Ask forgiveness, not permission?”

Anbu Otter’s head swivels their way and the Hokage roars out in genuine amusement. Her own lip twitches.

He takes a moment to recover himself.

“Indeed, Honōka-kun! Do you mind playing mediator between this old man and his precious student?”

She considers.

“Orochimaru…sama—he likes learning things then?”

“Maa, you could say that he does.”

She nods and bows.

“Thank you, Hokage-sama, for considering my own wishes. I will gladly receive this placement.”

The Hokage gives her no other advice than to be herself. She assumes this means Orochimaru does not like pretenders. So, she finds herself standing in front of Orochimaru’s ‘lab’ with only herself and a letter of introduction. 

…It has a complex atmosphere. She’s not sure what to feel, so she swallows her apprehension and enters…

…And is relieved to find it’s actually fairly normal—professional even, like a clinic. There’s a secretary and everything. She has to stand three paces back from the counter, though. She doubts they would see her if she stood any closer.

“Pardon me. Is Orochimaru-sama in?”

Disbelief furrows their brow.

“Appointment only, kid.”

She nods. She figured it would be like this. She takes out the Hokage’s letter of introduction and passes it over the edge of the counter before stepping back again.

“Hokage-sama asks that this be brought to Orochimaru-sama as soon as possible.”

The secretary curiously scoops up the scroll, and discretely pries the seal.

“For Orochimaru-sama’s eyes only, please.”

They do a double take, like they actually can’t believe this little girl who isn’t even half as tall as their counter is ordering them around. They’ve seen weirder though, so they wordlessly get up and head through another door.

They return a few short minutes later, a hint shaken, and say nothing more.

Honōka takes a seat.

She sits there for a solid five hours. The secretary leaves at some point, throwing her a pitying look before locking the front door. She’s half in a trance by the time the back door opens and the palest man she’s ever seen walks out.

He addresses her without looking up. “You are still here, are you?”

She swings her legs, toes missing the floor.

He pokes around the front desk and clicks his tongue. “They didn’t have you sign in…? Not good enough.”

“…”

“Child!” he barks, and she jumps up. “Come here.”

She obeys.

“Do you remember what time you entered the premises?”

“Yes.”

He slaps down the visitor's log and hauls a chair over for her to stand on.

“Fill it out.”

She does.

This is Orochimaru. He’s…intense. Maybe a little OCD. Particular.

“Do you know why you are here, child?”

She nods and debates if she should get off the chair.

“Sarutobi-sensei just can’t help himself it seems…”

She doesn’t reply. Orochimaru casts the seals for a blatant genjutsu.

“Now, tell me: are you here to snoop for Sensei?”

She frowns at him, because— _really?_ Did Hokage-sama put _anything_ in the letter?

“Yes. Also, genjutsu doesn’t affect me.”

His smug, cat-that-ate-the-canary expression does a complete one-eighty then. He recovers a fraction of a second later and leans coolly against the counter, arms crossing.

“Are you Anbu?”

She shakes her head. She doesn’t fully know what Anbu are. She’s seen them around before, but today was the first time she had a name for them.

She notices he’s holding her introductory letter.

“What is your name, child?”

She gives him the look Obito calls her ‘are you serious right now’ face and intentionally lets her eyes flick down to the scroll and back to his lips again.

“From your own mouth, if you please.”

“Tsunemori Honōka-desu.”

“Age?”

“Six. My birthday is on June eighteenth.”

He seems to be having an intense debate with himself at high speed. Honōka can’t hope to puzzle it out under the present circumstances.

“Likes, dislikes, hobbies—tell me about yourself.”

“My favorite color right now is blue. I like gyōza but not the deep fried kind. My family owns and operates a bathhouse. I like reading.”

“Tsunemori-ya? _That_ bathhouse?” 

He’s cottoned onto her unusual-for-a-shinobi background and she almost laughs. Why do all the shinobi know about her family’s bathhouse?

“Why become a shinobi?” he asks, genuinely intrigued. “You could live a peaceful life instead of one steeped in murder and war.”

She goes with her usual answer.

“I had questions I couldn’t answer anywhere else.”

His eyes are telling in a single glance. The striking yellow and snake-like pupils unashamedly convey his uptick in interest. She isn’t used to shinobi being so forthright. She looks away hurriedly.

“Had? Have you already found your answers?”

She makes the universal ‘so-so’ gesture.

He snorts, a smoky hiss of breath.

“What did you think of the Academy curriculum?”

Is that a swipe at the Hokage, maybe?

“I kind of expected more. But that’s okay; I get to apprentice with a Sannin now.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere with me, child.”

But there is a hint of a smile in his voice. She shrugs and the non-smile grows.

“Worth a shot.”

The laugh is abrupt when it comes out, and over just as abruptly. 

“Very well. What can you tell me about your strengths and weaknesses?”

“I learned the curriculum inside out, but not much else.” She admits. “I can do the Academy Three as well as any other graduate. I’m most proud of my henge.”

He doesn’t look impressed, but she has a feeling no opinion is worse than a less than favorable opinion when it comes to Orochimaru.

“Ah,” if he’s looking for something she has that no one else has… “My chakra is a one-to-one ratio, if you consider that a strength.”

“Percent of deviation?”

“None.”

Sharp, fast, then smothered—it’s hard to tell what response that elicited.

“What are you expecting from this apprenticeship?”

She considers. Given how sketchy this whole situation is shaping out to be?

“Answers…and to not die.”

He near howls with laughter then—a not totally unpleasant sound. Not what she would consider warm or fuzzy either.

“I think we will get along splendidly, Honōka-kun.”


	9. An astute observation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Did you lose a fight?” Orochimaru asks. He’s feigning casual interest, but there’s a more genuine curiosity bubbling just beneath the surface. 
> 
> “No?”
> 
> “Then what happened to your hair?”
> 
> “I got it cut?”
> 
> “…” a hint of frustration climbs into his tone. “With what? Wire cutters?”
> 
> “Scissors, actually.”

She’s at Rin’s place, drinking tea and eating snacks in the shop behind the counter with Obito while Rin helps her father reorganize the displays.

“Ah! This is so not fair! I almost had it!” Obito complains, loudly. “Next year for sure!”

Rin grimaces. Her control is great—and no one else in class even comes close to Honōka’s one-to-one ratio—except for Rin. It’s just taking her some time to build up her chakra reserves. She also understands that while Honōka and Kakashi make the Academy curriculum look fluffy, it most certainly is not.

“Take your time, Obito.” Honōka says. “You could stand to learn from Guy, you know?”

“Hah?!”

“'There’s no such things as being over prepared—only under prepared.'”

He huffs, because he can’t refute her—or Guy.

She finishes her tea and takes out her octopus shaped coin purse. She counts bills and coins.

Sōji raises a brow at her.

“You’re apprenticing to a Sannin and you’re still paying for your own clothes?”

She shrugs.

“I get the feeling Orochimaru-sama is strict about diet and stuff. I don’t think I’ll need to worry about getting enough protein anymore.” Not enough to worry about emergency snack funds, at least. “He already said he’d do something about my shinobi kit. I figured I could supplement it with something familiar.”

Sōji preens.

“You’ve just about outgrown all of your old stuff. Don’t hold back, kid. I’ll cut you a good deal.”

She sends a grateful bow his way, which he waves off, and picks out the same style shoes again. Black and over the ankle.

While she loves her floppy, pleated shorts, they just aren’t practical. She gets them caught on everything, and there was that one time Obito accidentally pantsed her. He still gets embarrassed about it, sometimes for apparently no reason—at random times too. She goes with grey ankle length pants similar to her monpe pants from home instead. They’re lightweight, durable, and water resistant.

She used to hate showing her arms, but no one will question it now that she’s officially a shinobi. She goes with high neck tank tops in that familiar navy material instead of her usual long sleeves.

“I’ll throw in compression bandages and socks for free.” Sōji tells her. “No one buys stirrup socks anyhow.”

“Their loss. I like not having blisters.”

“Blisters turn into callouses, eventually.”

“I like my feet to not have cracks.”

He shakes his head at her and laughs.

She’s browsing the coats when Rin asks her about her hair. She doesn’t need a new coat anyhow—her lemon yellow tent is still sizes too big.

“My hair?”

“Ah, well, it’s getting kind of—long—isn’t it?”

“It’s so long we can actually see your eyes,” Obito teases. Rin elbows him.

She rolls a few strands between her fingers. Her bangs used to be somewhat neat, if long, but she hasn’t had a haircut since she joined the Academy. Manaka used to cut them like blinders—she could barely see through them, but no one else could either.

“Can you cut hair, Rin?”

“Yeah! I cut Otō-san’s hair all the time.”

Sōji’s hair looks pretty neat, from what she can see of it in his usual low ponytail.

“Okay. Do you mind cutting mine?”

“Not at all! I’ll go grab the scissors—be right back!”

Sōji takes her money in the meantime and starts packing up her stuff—he probably thinks she doesn’t notice him putting in a tool belt and thigh holster.

Rin is back and laying out a tarp and chair, finding a crate to stand on for herself.

“Ready, Honōka-chan?”

She dutifully sits in the chair and shakes her hair out. She never quite figured out how to take care of it, and now it’s a tangled, matted, mess.

Come to think of it, her grandfather used to berate her for never taking a comb to her hair. It didn’t matter back then—Tomoe's hair was straight.

Rin attempts to draw a comb through it and hurriedly aborts when she lets out an undignified squawk.

“Ah, sorry, Honōka-chan… How short should I cut it?”

She considers.

“Chop it all off. You can leave this bit,” she says, grabbing a handful of her bangs. “Ah. Maybe trim this a bit too?”

“Are you sure, Honōka-chan?” Rin asks.

“Yeah. Cut the back as short as Obito’s, if you like.”

Rin hesitates but ultimately agrees.

Clip…clip…snip…

“You…have so much hair, Honōka-chan! It’s so thick—ah, I’m jealous.” 

And frustrated by the sound of it, Honōka thinks.

She grips the chair as Rin snips at the hair around her ears, attempting to even out the layers. The prickly hair sticking to her neck is driving her nuts.

“Okay…okay! Enough. I’m done!”

“Hold still, Honōka-chan! I’m almost done—”

“I’m done!” she insists. Rin stops what she’s doing and backs away.

“Uh, Honōka, I think you should let Rin finish. I mean, there’s a long piece in your bangs and you got some sticking up in the back still.”

“It’s fine,” she says, vigorously scraping the cut hair off her neck. Ew. She wants to clip her nails now. 

Rin hovers, concerned. 

“I’m fine.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“…it’s itchy. I hate it. It’s fine.”

“Oh, okay… Do you want to take a break and try again later?”

She twirls the surviving lock of hair on the left side, near her temple, and pats the rest down. It is sticking up in the back, but it’s not prickly or even that uneven. In fact, cut short as it is, the slight kink in her hair disguises any of the really uneven parts. 

“It’s fine. I like it.”

Rin lets out a breath of relief. “Yeah? I think it looks cute!”

Obito looks at them like they’ve both lost their minds.

“If you guys say so…”

“Did you lose a fight?” Orochimaru asks. He’s feigning casual interest, but there’s a more genuine curiosity bubbling just beneath the surface. 

“No?”

“Then what happened to your hair?”

“I got it cut?”

“…” a hint of frustration climbs into his tone. “With what? Wire cutters?”

“Scissors, actually.”

It’s an off key interaction, and Orochimaru doesn’t like being caught wrong-footed in anything. He talks himself down from his exasperation quickly, though. It’s not worth questioning, apparently.

“You are an odd child, aren’t you.”

She thinks he’s pretty odd himself.

“Very well, we’ve wasted enough time. Follow me.”

He leads her to the training grounds, the Third Training Ground specifically. It’s a large training ground with access to a river, the forest, and close to the mountainside. It’s arguably the most diverse training ground in Konoha.

As such, it’s not surprising to Honōka that it’s currently being used.

Orochimaru frowns at the tall blond-haired man (unexpectedly) in the clearing.

“Minato, you have not booked the Third Training Ground for this period.”

“Oh, I must have forgotten. My apologies, Orochimaru-san.” He’s not actually the least bit apologetic, Honōka thinks. “What brings you to the Third Training Ground today? Testing out a new jutsu?” He’s suddenly eager, churning with excitement. Orochimaru does have a reputation for inventing new and interesting techniques.

Orochimaru crosses his arms. He doesn’t have much patience for this stranger; she thinks.

The man, Minato, finally notices her standing three paces behind Orochimaru.

“Ara? Who’s this young lady?” A brief, unnamed suspicion flickers across his face, then clears. “Is it possible you’ve taken on a student, Orochimaru-san?”

Orochimaru sniffs at him. “Sarutobi-sensei’s handiwork, I assure you.”

Minato laughs, and it’s a pleasant sound, if a tad awkward. Orochimaru is not the only one inconvenienced by the Hokage’s scheming, it seems.

“So, does the little lady have a name?” he asks again, and leans down in front of her, resting his hands on his knees. She resists the urge to give him _the look_ and wishes she didn’t feel so exposed by her newly trimmed bangs.

“Tsunemori Honōka-desu.”

“Namikaze Minato-desu,” he offers a hand out for her to shake. “I have a student about your age. You might have heard of him, his name is—”

There’s movement to her left, and there’s that familiar staticky head of silver.

“Kakashi!” she waves. He’s watching from the edge of the clearing, so she blows off Orochimaru and Minato in favor of greeting her former classmate. “It’s been a while. How are you?”

Kakashi, having been rather obviously spotted, reluctantly comes forward.

“Yo, Honōka. What happened to your hair?”

“Rin cut it.”

“With what? A blunt shuriken?”

She frowns. Why does everyone keep asking?

“No. She used scissors.”

She hears an exasperated chuff from Orochimaru and Kakashi raises a dubious brow at her, but doesn’t pursue the matter.

“Your sensei is funny,” she blurts. “Does he talk to you like that too?”

Kakashi sighs, long since accustomed to her out of the blue questions.

“Like what?” he asks.

“Like a child.”

She can practically feel Minato taking damage behind her, and knows Orochimaru isn’t bothering to curb his amusement in the least. Kakashi just shakes his head at her. Ah—he doesn’t get it either. Not even Jūn-sensei was quite so… Well, he didn’t talk to them like they were actual babies.

Minato breaks the pause with a slight cough.

“So, Orochimaru-san, you must be here to test Honōka-chan—”

“An astute observation.”

“Do you mind if I watch? I’m honestly running out of ideas to keep Kakashi entertained with.”

“Looking to take notes, Minato?”

It’s another dig, but the younger man shrugs it off.

“Yeah, of course, if it’s no trouble.”

Orochimaru sighs and puts up like Minato is wasting his time, but he’s already spinning Kakashi’s convenient presence into his existing plans.

“Very well. Having another genin present simplifies things, no?”

Minato frowns, not liking where Orochimaru is leading with that.

“Is that a good idea, Orochimaru-san? Kakashi has already experienced his first battle…he might be a bit much for Honōka-chan’s current ability.”

Orochimaru just refolds his arms, giving her an expectant look. She glances at Minato’s concerned frown and back to Kakashi, who merely shrugs at her.

She squares her stance and faces Kakashi.

“Weapons?” he asks.

“I have none,” she weightlessly raises her open hands. “Orochimaru-sama is taking me to get outfitted later.”

“Ah, I see,” Minato mumbles. “This training session is to see what disciplines will suit Honōka-chan.”

“…” Kakashi is probably remembering how bad she was (is) at shurikenjutsu.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Orochimaru prompts, impatience growing.

She shrugs and shunshin's behind Kakashi. Shunshin is just one step removed from kawarimi, and technically a higher rank skill…but, honestly, she thinks it’s easier. Less fiddly.

Kakashi expects her to attack from behind (obviously) and she slide tackles his planted foot as he goes to catch her with a hook kick.

He hits the ground in a roll and she wastes no time and spares no feelings aiming an axe kick at his spine.

It hits, but not Kakashi. Her heel splinters a log as the real Kakashi flickers next to her. He punches her in the head and she sees stars. But she, like all shinobi, has a thick skull.

As she falls, she latches onto his wrist and pulls herself upright, inserting a foot into his stance and flipping him to the ground—hard. He makes brief contact with the ground, and just as quickly replaces himself with the same log again.

“You’ve been training with Guy.” An accusation or a simple observation? Hard to tell with Kakashi.

She locates him to her right, where he’s flipping through hand seals unfairly fast.

He ends with snake though, and she knows what that usually means.

She flickers behind Minato, who is forced to deflect the earth walls used as an improvised battering ram. When the technique ends she hops right back in. Kakashi clicks his tongue at her.

“I don’t know any elemental ninjutsu,” she reminds him between punches.

“Do you want me to stop using them then?” Kakashi asks.

“Hmm…it’s fine.”

He ducks behind a tree and pops out with three clones, all making seals for the Doton jutsu again. She aims for the only one that feels like the real Kakashi, breaking his jutsu sequence with a front kick. His eyes widen a fraction before breaking away quickly. He puts considerable distance between them.

They’re both panting hard.

“That is sufficient, Honōka-kun.” Orochimaru even allows a note of delight to color his tone.

Minato is looking absolutely stumped. “She knew which one was real without hesitating—and before that, she knew when the technique’s area of effect ended…this kid, she’s a sensor type?”

“So it would seem.” Orochimaru agrees. His excitement is ratcheting up, bordering on gleeful.

“But, how is it possible? She didn’t use any seals, or focus her chakra in any visible way…?”

“It would seem that Honōka-kun is an intuitive sensor.”

Is she, though? She’s not doing anything different, she thinks.

“Come along, Honōka-kun,” Orochimaru practically purrs. “We have _many_ options to discuss for your future studies.” 


	10. “Something should be happening if you are doing it correctly.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Orochimaru’s idea of a good time is apparently spending hours repeating the same tests over and over—and then being immensely dissatisfied with the results.

She’s with Orochimaru in his lab. There’s a storage room filled with scrolls and ninja tools off the back hall.

“Kunai, shuriken, or  perhaps  senbon?” he asks.

“I can throw them.”

“Which are you most proficient with?”

“Yes.”

He reels in an impulse that feels _not nice_. She shivers.

“Which do you prefer then?”

“…” she considers. “I don’t like them.”

She thinks Orochimaru doesn’t have much patience to begin with, so she’s not surprised when he wheels on her with an unimpressed not-glare.

“Pick. _One.”_

“Kunai. I like putting wire through the pommel.”

“Do you like ninja wire?”

“Traps are fun.”

A moment passes in silence as he finds the kunai and ninja wire that are most suitable for her, by his quick estimates .

“How is your kenjutsu?”

She gestures. So-so.

“…not a weapon specialist then.”

She’s sitting on a table, kicking her feet  idly  . Orochimaru continues pawing through  increasingly  obscure looking weapons. She thinks it would be pointless (detrimental even) to tell him she’s  just  not good with weapons. She drops them or forgets them or they slip and land way off mark.

Then he’s pinching her cheeks between his thumb and index finger, expression livid. 

“Are you even listening to me, child?”

She wants to nod her head, but the pressure from his fingers is right on her molars. It hurts.

He clicks his tongue and lets go, anger evaporating. “This is _exactly_ why I told Sarutobi-sensei I did not want any students.”

“Do you think there’s a return policy?” she asks, deadpan, and massages her jaw.

He tilts his head at her, silky black hair parting to one side. He’s pretending to consider it.

“ Shall  I ask sensei?”

There’s  just  something so  inappropriately  funny about the whole situation. She laughs. Orochimaru rolls his eyes at her.

“Pay attention, Honōka-kun. I hate repeating myself, and I should not have to explain anything twice.”

She nods.

“I’m sorry. I  was distracted.”

“By what?” he’s not mollified by the casual admission. “There is nothing to  be distracted by  here, given your disinterest in weapons.”

Ah—he's missed the point,  clearly. It’s  precisely  because there’s nothing of interest that her mind wanders to other things. Speaking of…

“Is there a substation nearby?”

He frowns at the non sequitur and opens his mouth to reprimand her for her wandering attention again, then stops. His interest piques.

“There is. Why do you ask?”

“It’s distracting.”  She’s pretty sure the electrical current is only part of what contributes to the lab’s complex flavor profile.

“Distracting in what sense? Is it a sound? A feeling?”

She gestures. So-so. 

“Use your words, child, or so help me…” He’s  easily  provoked by that gesture, it would seem. Her skin crawls at the empty threat. She thinks it’s empty.  Probably. 

“It’s staticky. My skin feels  crawly  and the air smells  metally.”

“…” He sighs. “Come along, Honōka-kun. Have you ever had your five senses evaluated?”

She shakes her head and jumps off the table.  Technically, yes—just  not as Tsunemori Honōka. She hasn’t noticed if anything is different. Not  glaringly  different, at least.

Orochimaru’s idea of a good time is  apparently  spending hours repeating the same tests over and over—and then being  immensely  dissatisfied with the results.

“ _Average_ …” he mutters to himself, like it’s a dirty word. Every test result was more or less in the normal, expected, range. It crosses his mind to consider that he’s  been played, or so the suspicious look he shoots her way says.

He asks one last question.

“What direction do you think the substation is in?”

She points. He frowns. Frustration again.

“What makes you so certain?”

“Bzzz.”

He flicks his hair out of his face with more force than is  strictly  necessary and  is seized by  another idea mid swish. He stalks over to his desk and rifles through the drawers, producing a blank sheet of square paper.

“Mold chakra through this.”

She does. Nothing happens. Orochimaru scowls.

“Come now—I have seen you mold chakra through your entire body for the body flicker technique.”

“I am molding chakra.”

“Nonsense.” A spike of irritation. “Something should be happening if you are doing it  correctly.”

His irritation is rubbing off on her. She reaches out with her other hand and lays a single finger on a glass beaker. High frequency chakra and glass don’t play nice. The beaker shatters in a brilliant spray of shards.

She checks his expression after her own mini tantrum. He’s doing that mental-debate-in-fast-forward thing again. Uwah.

“Could it be a kekkei genkai?  No—even the Uchiha have nature affinities…advanced nature transformations still favor one or the other enough to not confuse the results too  badly…”

Oh, he mumbles when something stimulates his interests enough. Neat.

He comes to a conclusion after another moment.

“This chakra paper responds to even the slightest amount of chakra to reveal the latent elemental nature of the user. For this test to ‘fail’ can mean one of three things.”

He takes the paper from her. 

“One. The paper itself is faulty.”

It splits clean in two. Not option number one then.

“Two. Your chakra has no impurities—no elemental influences. Thus, you have no nature affinity.”

She waits for the third option.

“Three. Something else that I have not yet thought of.”

He snorts—as if it goes without saying how unlikely that is.

“I am _currently_ inclined to believe it is option two. After all, you are  inexplicably  immune to genjutsu as well.  Historical evidence suggests the ability to mold elemental chakra comes from outside the body—from nature itself.  If your body filters out all external sources of chakra before internalizing them—that would explain why genjutsu fails on you and why you have not a speck of elemental chakra.”

She considers.

“Would that mean elemental ninjutsu are impossible for me, or  just  that I’ll have to learn how to stop ‘filtering’ my chakra before learning how to mold elemental chakra? And would doing that make me vulnerable to genjutsu attempts in the process?”

“Excellent questions, Honōka-kun.” He sounds  genuinely  impressed with her. Then his mind back tracks and he frowns again, vexed. 

“That does not explain how you are sensing a substation  nearly  two hundred meters away…”


	11. “I regret to inform you I was coerced.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Come, Honōka-kun. You are late for your armor fitting appointment.” A fact that is no doubt triggering her teacher’s fastidious nature. “You are, of course, welcome to continue playing with your little friends. It is no concern of mine if you would prefer to go without.”

She’s hanging out with Rin and Obito at an empty lot near Uchiha-ku. Obito practices his throwing technique while she walks Rin through more qigong exercises.

“I’m glad you’re still coming to see us, Honōka-chan.” Rin tells her. “We never see Kakashi anymore.”

“Ah. I saw him the other day.”

“What?!” Obito exclaims. A shuriken thunks into the ground near her foot. “You saw the bastard? Where?!”

“The Third Training Ground. We sparred. His sensei knows Orochimaru-sama.”

“That bastard’s sensei must be some big shot too!”

“He called Orochimaru-sama ‘san’. His name is Namikaze Minato.”

Rin and Obito turn to her, shocked.

“Konoha’s Yellow Flash?!”

“Ah—his hair was pretty yellow.”

“Damn! That’s so not fair!” Obito rants.

Rin resumes the exercise, shell-shocked.

“That explains why we never see Kakashi anymore. His sensei is heavily involved in the war effort…I hope Kakashi is alright.”

Obito flops onto the ground, too worked up to keep practicing.

“What about your sensei, Honōka? Any important missions in your future?”

“Not yet. Orochimaru-sama is still busy with something at the lab, I think. He said he’d take me to get outfitted today, but he hasn’t been around.”

Rin and Obito share a skeptical look.

“Honōka-chan…you weren’t supposed to meet your sensei anywhere at a specific time, were you?”

“Hnm. I don’t think so?”

Obito facepalms.

“I know I’m the last person who should be saying this…but you’re seriously worse than me, Honōka! How you never missed a single day of class, or were late even once, is a mystery.”

The boiler room beneath her bedroom is an excellent alarm clock.

“Are you _sure_ your sensei isn’t waiting for you anywhere?” Rin stresses.

She thinks. He might have mentioned something, but she went by earlier and he was still busy. She shrugs. It’s probably not important.

“Yes… _are_ you sure about that, Honōka-kun?”

Rin startles and Obito squeaks, rolling to his feet and pinwheeling his arms as he nearly falls over again.

She glances at her teacher, sitting on a convenient stool shaped stump, one leg crossed over the other—looking for all the world like he’s been there all along.

“No?”

He narrows his eyes at her and gestures broadly.

“Please, _continue_.”

She never paused in her qigong routine to begin with, so she assumes he’s talking to Rin. Rin haltingly picks up where she left off and Obito awkwardly sits down again. He finds qigong ‘embarrassing’.

“Some form of calisthenics?” Orochimaru asks, utterly unimpressed.

“It’s called qigong.”

“Chikō?”

“Yes.” Or close enough.

“And are you the creator of this unusual exercise?”

Hm. She considers. She makes the so-so gesture that Orochimaru is coming to hate with a passion.

“Explain.”

“The monks at the local temple do something similar.”

“How would you say your method differs?”

“…”

“Well?”

Rin is sweating bullets next to her, anxiety curling in her gut. Ah.

“They’re going through the motions but missing the point.”

“And the point is?”

She moves into a flowing tai chi sequence.

“The _point_ is to realign the chi circulating throughout the body, to cultivate and balance it—and to flush away any stagnating energies. Yin and yang are in constant motion inside the body and at the core there should be stillness.”

He’s resting his chin on his knuckles now, considering.

“Are you familiar with the Hyūga Clan’s ways?”

She shakes her head. “There are no Hyūga in our year.”

“This, _chikō…_ You are teaching it to your friends here? Would you say they are grasping the ‘point’?”

“Rin is getting there. Obito won’t even try.”

Obito flashes her a look that screams ‘don’t drag me into your weirdness!’.

“And what is this chikō supposed to be teaching _you_?”

“I thought it might be the reason my chakra ratio is one-to-one. But since Rin started practicing her chakra ratio has moved closer to a stable one-to-two ratio of one parts yin chakra to two parts yang chakra.”

“As opposed to?”

“When she began her chakra was closer to a one-to-one ratio, with a considerable deviation.”

“So your chikō proved detrimental to her.”

“Ah. I think it’s more like…it reset her chakra ratio to its natural rhythm?”

“Do you agree?” he asks Rin.

Rin discretely chews the inside of her lip. She did initially worry that she was undoing her hard earned progress, but…

“It’s become easier to mold chakra since I began learning qigong from Honōka-chan.”

“Is that so.”

“Yes…”

He seems to have exhausted his interest in the subject—for now.

“Come, Honōka-kun. You are late for your armor fitting appointment.” A fact that is no doubt triggering her teacher’s fastidious nature. “You are, of course, welcome to continue playing with your little friends. It is no concern of mine if you would prefer to go without.”

Ack. Obito scrubs his face, muttering, "I knew it…"

“See you guys later—Rin, I’ll teach you tai chi next time. Keep practicing every morning. You’re getting it.”

Rin and Obito awkwardly wave her along. Their body language practically screams ‘get going, stupid!’.

Honōka and Orochimaru arrive at a hole in the wall armor shop. It’s small, but it’s probably the best in Konoha—she reasons it wouldn’t be her sensei’s first choice if it weren’t.

There’s a thick and cloying cloud of tobacco smoke lingering inside the shop. She gags and Orochimaru smacks her upside the head.

The elderly woman at the counter laughs—her voice unexpectedly light, both for her age and the amount of smoke she must put through her lungs.

“Finally tracked down the wayward pupil, eh, Orochi?”

“Indeed. I must apologize for our lateness, Mitsuha-sama.”

“Don’t worry about it. These old bones don’t mind taking a break.”

Her teacher bows anyhow, and Honōka follows his lead. Mitsuha chuckles at the pair of them.

“I must say—I never expected to live long enough to outfit any student you saw fit to take, Orochi.”

“I regret to inform you I was coerced.”

His dry humor startles an absolutely musical peel of laughter from the elderly woman. She wipes tears from her eyes as she recovers. She shows her amusement easily, and genuinely.

“Alright, alright. Honōka-chan, is it? Come on back. I’ll take your measurements for a proper fit and see if I don’t have anything on hand that’ll pass muster in the meantime.”

Her feet move, unbidden, and she puzzles out the niggling sense of familiarity she feels from the old woman. Mitsuha guides her to the room behind the counter with a light hand steering her and smiles— _smiles; planted, firm._

She slides the shōji door shut behind them and points for Honōka to stand on a wooden platform in the center of the room.

“Is it expensive to outfit a growing shinobi?” She asks as the elderly woman collects her tools. “I might outgrow whatever you make for me in a couple months.”

“Better to pay for good armor than to not,” she answers. “You needn’t worry about it. Your sensei is quite wealthy.”

“…”

She instructs Honōka to strip off her outer clothes and takes her measurements. She clucks her tongue at a particularly bad bruise.

“How old are you, Honōka-chan?”

“Six. My birthday is on June eighteenth.”

“Oh, lucky me—I know when to have your order ready.” Level, steady, and just a little teasing.

She thinks it’s ironic. Her first birthday present in this world will be armor that she might die in.

“Thank you, Obā-chan.”

That startles a choked breath from the elderly woman. It’s a little happy, a little sad. Bitter sweet. She finishes taking her measurements and Honōka dresses. 

“Now, let’s see what I’ve got lying around for you.”

She ends up leaving Granny Mitsuha’s workshop with a full suit of wire-mesh armor and compound arm and shin guards. Which Mitsuha refuses to be paid for.

Orochimaru gives her a shrewd (but faintly impressed) once over.

“How did you charm Mitsuha-sama in so short a time?”

She raises an eyebrow at her teacher.

“I called her Obā-chan.”

“…” he snorts. “You sly little devil.”


	12. “That man is bad news.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She’s in the room she dubbed the back office when every hair on her body suddenly stands and the door to the basement elevator opens. A man with an improbable amount of bandages wrapped around his head and right eye exits with an Anbu associate.

The thing about being Orochimaru’s apprentice is this: he is not a frontline fighter. She’s sure he could be, (and would be an absolute terror) he’s just currently involved in some other domestic affair.

So, most of the time, Honōka feels like she’s sitting on her thumbs waiting for her sensei. And then, when he does have time for her, he’s frustrated and irritated with her lack of progress.

It’s while she’s sitting on her thumbs waiting for her sensei to finish in the _downstairs_ lab that she meets Shimura Danzō.

She’s in the room she dubbed the back office when every hair on her body suddenly stands and the door to the basement elevator opens. A man with an improbable amount of bandages wrapped around his head and right eye exits with an Anbu associate.

Everything about the man screams danger.

Honōka instinctively freezes, like an animal trying to erase its presence before the claws of a predator can reach it. It works a little too well. Neither notice her.

“Not nearly as much progress as I expected,” the bandaged man grunts.

“Yes, Danzō-sama.”

Ohhh. This is _really bad_ , she thinks. She doesn’t know if it’s worse to reveal herself right then or go unnoticed and risk being discovered after hearing something that _might_ get her killed.

She swings her legs and knocks her heel on the leg of the table she’s sitting on. Sink or swim.

A kunai is hurled in her direction and she delays her reaction, remaining exactly where she is. The Anbu agent aims where they expect someone more experienced might move. 

“Woah!” she exclaims, playing herself up thickly. Always better to appear dumber than she really is, especially around unknown adults.

The Anbu agent tenses to jump and she rolls off the table, flipping it as she goes down—cowering behind it. She’s still partially visible, though. They can see that she’s clearly not planning anything dangerous.

“Wait, Goburi. I believe this child is Orochimaru’s new protégé.”

She peeks up, nodding vigorously. “T-tsunemori Honōka-d-desu…!”

He looks at her and her heart races. _Ohhh_. She wants to run and hide. A flicker of eye contact and she looks up, down, left, left, right, down. Don’t look, _don’t look_!

The bandaged man’s attention holds and she blinks rapidly, encouraging nervous tears to sparkle in her eyes—it’s easy to do.

The elevator door opens again and his attention wavers from her to her teacher, who is very subtly annoyed that the other man hasn’t cleared off. Honōka does not drop her submissive avoidance act.

“Your student is spineless, Orochimaru.”

Her teacher finds her, sending her a dirty look that the bandaged man incorrectly identifies as simple annoyance. Honōka knows the look is deeper than that—he’s irritated that someone would call any student of his spineless when it is most definitely not true. He doesn’t keep spineless _worms_ around.

His next look borders on calling her out and she makes very, _very,_ brief eye contact with her sensei. This is not a regular occurrence between them—she hates anyone looking her in the eyes—and he knows something is wrong the moment they connect.

He considers her for a moment longer, but not long enough to have the bandaged man’s attention snap back to her.

“Sarutobi-sensei _did_ choose her.”

“I recall.”

She nibbles on her lip and makes a show of trying not to fidget. Orochimaru clicks his tongue at her behavior, using his annoyance with the other man to fuel its authenticity.

“I have no time for you today, girl. Go work on your forms with Atsushi-kun.”

She doesn’t know who Atsushi-kun is and hopes they’re the secretary.

“Y-yes, Orochimaru-sama!”

She makes her escape and runs away noisily, by shinobi standards. She kicks the swinging door open and grabs ‘Atsushi-kun’ by the hand.

“W-woah, woah! Where’s the paper bomb, kid?!”

She hauls him out of the lab and into the bright sunlight with her. “Orochimaru-sama said you are to help me with my forms, Atsushi-kun.”

That shuts him up. She stops pulling him by the hand but continues leading him, more or less.

“Where are we going to, uh, practice forms?”

“The Third Training Ground.”

Which is where Orochimaru finds them nearly an hour later, Honōka compulsively repeating her ‘chikō’ routine.

“How long has she been doing that?”

“Uh, the whole time, Orochimaru-sama.”

“Dismissed, Atsushi-kun.”

“Y-yes, Orochimaru-sama!” He goes. “…my name isn’t Atsushi…”

“…”

Orochimaru waits until ‘Atsushi’ is well out of eaves dropping range before motioning for her to stop. She does one final stretch, reaching for the sky and pulling it down, breathing it in and pushing it down all the way to her toes and back into the ground.

She shivers; she can’t seem to get rid of the taste of danger. 

“That man is bad news.”

Orochimaru’s cheek twitches. He has dimples when he actually smiles.

“Now, what would ever give you that impression?”

She shrugs. He drops his droll not-smile.

“We really must address that.”

“Address what, sensei?”

He shakes his head at her cheekiness.

“You clearly have some form of extrasensory perception. I have ruled out all the common forms and your descriptions, as always, leave much to be desired.”

“Sorry.”

“Do not say that which you do not mean.”

“…”

A sigh.

“Describe what you felt when you encountered Shimura Danzō.”

“Danger.”

“No. What made you feel like you were in danger, Honōka-kun?”

“…all my hair stood up.”

“When you saw him?”

She shakes her head. “Before the elevator opened.”

“And how did you know it was Danzō and not the man standing next to him?”

“The man with him didn’t feel like anything.”

Orochimaru pauses, considering.

“That is…rather accurate.” He puzzles away on that thought a little more. “Besides ‘danger’, what did Danzō feel like to you?”

“A predator. Sharp. Angry.” She tastes the flavor of the encounter again. “Impatient. Greedy. _Measuring.”_

Disbelief creases her teacher’s brows as he rolls the adjectives around in his head. Some of them are certainly within his own description parameters.

“I see…and how do I feel to you?”

“Right now, or in general?”

“In general.”

She considers.

“Impatient. Particular. Sometimes a lot of things so fast I can’t tell. Curious. Hungry. _Intense.”_

“And right now?”

“You were amused, then not, then puzzled. Something confused you because it made no sense. Now, it’s like you want to be angry but…oh, exasperation?”

Then he’s doing the thing where he feels a lot of things at once, so fast it makes it impossible for her to tell.

“Empathy…you got all that from empathy?” It makes all the sense in the world until it doesn’t. “That _still_ does not explain how you could sense a substation two hundred meters away!”


	13. He just likes making Minato sweat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hey, why don’t we have Kakashi and Honōka-chan do D-ranks together?” he proposes. “That way Honōka-chan learns her way around the mission desk and Kakashi actually takes a break—um, gains experience leading a team.”

They eventually establish a routine that Honōka can more or less follow. It involves Orochimaru booking out the Third Training Ground every weekday from noon until five and then being aggressively disappointed when he has to track her down elsewhere. She gets the message, eventually.

Surprisingly, the Third Training Ground is not actually a very popular training ground—which may or may not have to do with its reputation for being Orochimaru’s jutsu testing ground, the Hokage’s favorite training ground, and the site of the Memorial Stone. It feels important. Too important for casual training.

Her sensei isn’t always around to teach her, but he still expects her to be there doing something productive regardless of his presence. He calls it self-study. 

Point in case, she’s trying to figure out the ins and outs of water walking. She already taught herself how to walk up trees and walls—which requires a lot more effort than appearance dictates; her core strength has never been better. Water walking is proving tricky in other ways. The surface tension changes constantly, and her chakra tends to seek the relative stability just beneath the turbulent surface.

“Yo, Honōka. Training alone?”

She makes the so-so gesture at Kakashi. It’s entirely possible Orochimaru is nearby, watching. He’s been testing the extent of her sensing ability on his own time.

Minato lands on the water next to her.

“Ah, water surface walking practice—that takes me back.” Minato reminisces. “Need any tips?”

She shrugs. He interprets that favorably. 

“The surface of the river flows in one direction. It pulls chakra away as you emit it, so it’s like fighting an uphill battle. Additionally, your chakra naturally wants to rotate one way or the other. As it does, it digs into the surface of the water, causing you to sink.”

“So, if I angle the tread of the rotation downward, I’ll stop digging in?” She tries it and she stops sinking. It was that easy, she thinks, shaking water from her sandals one at a time. What next?

“A quick study, huh?” Kakashi’s sensei sounds equal parts impressed and disappointed. Weird.

“Do you need to use the Third Training Ground?” she asks. “Sensei is testing my range right now. It doesn’t make any difference if its here or somewhere else.”

“The range of your sensory technique? How’s that going?”

She gestures. So-so.

“Not so good then,” Minato guesses, smiling sympathetically.

“What about you, Minato-san?”

“M-me?”

“Un. You’re a sensor type.”

Kakashi glances between her and his sensei in the resulting silence. He’s grudgingly impressed.

“Well, I don’t know if it’s the type you’re thinking. I wasn’t born a sensor—I’m learning from the Toad Sages.”

“I see.” She’s not sure how to digest that information, as it makes little sense to her. “Orochimaru-sama has been trying to figure out if I have advanced chakra sensitivity or some form of emotional hypervigilance.”

She’s never heard either term before, and wonders why they weren’t taught at the Academy. Minato seems to know what they are, as he reacts with surprise and a concern that verges on pity.

Then, there’s a feeling like someone breathing down her neck and she turns, heart thudding as cold sweat beads down her neck. Intense curiosity verging on annoyance—but it’s Orochimaru-sama. She waves and he appears in a flickering shunshin. He doesn’t acknowledge Minato or Kakashi.

“Fifty meters. You showed awareness when I actively observed you. What got your attention?”

“Curiosity.” She lies, just a little breathless. 

“And how did you know it was me and not an unrelated passerby?”

“…”

“Well?”

“The intensity.”

“And if someone else were to feel similarly strong curiosity?”

“…” she considers. “Someone else wouldn’t feel annoyed and curious when looking at someone unrelated.”

“Annoyed…?” He turns the word over in his head like it’s particularly sour and crosses his arms at her. Finally, he acknowledges Minato.

“Minato, I do believe I have booked the Third Training Ground for this period.”

Minato rubs the back of his neck, feeling chastised. 

She’s only just realized, but Minato doesn’t seem that old. A teenager.

“Sorry, Orochimaru-san—I got curious.”

Orochimaru snorts.

“Honōka-kun, how would you describe Minato?”

“Overly sympathetic, sensitive. Possibly idealistic. Shifty.”

Her sensei smirks. He agrees. Minato reacts to each word like a physical pinch. They aren’t very shinobi-like qualities, except for the last one—but she didn’t mean it the way everyone else seems to have interpreted it. Oh well.

“Ano, Honōka-chan, how exactly did you know I was a sensor type?” Minato asks.

Orochimaru looks intrigued—he didn’t hear that part of the conversation, or know Minato was a sensor type either.

“I didn’t. You told me.”

Confusion.

“…I did, but you asked me first…?”

She shrugs.

“You were sympathetic to my lack of progress. I guessed you were experiencing similar frustrations that you could relate to mine. You confirmed my suspicion when I asked.”

“She got you, Sensei.” Kakashi remarks. Minato winces.

“Excellent deduction, Honōka-kun. You may yet have a career with T&I.” Something that makes him gleeful in a very _not nice_ way. At least it’s not directed at her.

“Orochimaru-san…is that a good idea? Honōka-chan mentioned she might be hypervigilant—emotionally hypervigilant.”

Her sensei flashes her an exasperated look. Should she not have told Minato?

“Hypervigilance is likely a symptom of something else—possibly from engaging her extrasensory perception frequently, or even constantly.”

That sends a shock through Minato. For anyone to constantly be extending their senses is, well, overwhelming.

“Yes…on a separate note, would you happen to know what your student’s nature affinity is? Honōka-kun has such an interesting way of describing Kakashi-kun.”

Minato and Kakashi share a dubious look. Orochimaru can make a harmless question sound…not so harmless. They nod.

“Honōka-kun—what was that word you used again?”

“Staticky.”

Orochimaru resists the urge to scowl at the absolutely unprofessional word, and Minato’s eyes widen in surprise.

“Kakashi’s nature is staticky! I mean, his chakra nature is lightning!”

Kakashi rolls his eyes. Minato is nearly giddy.

“Ne, what’s my chakra nature, Honōka-chan?”

“Hmn…” she considers. He feels kind of wishy-washy. “Watery?”

Minato takes damage. He dramatically drops to his knees. “Not you too, Honōka-chan…!”

Orochimaru doesn’t hold back his snickers, just hides them behind his hand. Kakashi flashes her an irritated glare for breaking his sensei. She looks to her sensei for the answer to Minato’s bizarre behavior.

“Minato, like yourself and Kakashi-kun, is lauded as a once in a generation prodigy. Despite this, he is unable to grasp his natural affinity for water.”

“H-hey, I can use it, it’s just…”

“Underwhelming?” Orochimaru provides. “Perhaps your generation’s genius passed you over in favor of Kakashi-kun and Honōka-kun?”

That actually makes Minato feel strangely hopeful. Weirdo.

Honōka considers him again and offers him a hand up. He gives her an authentic smile and accepts her help—though he obviously has to do most of the work himself.

“Maybe your chi is out of alignment? My friend was having trouble molding chakra until she stopped forcing it to conform to some expectation she had.”

He’s not really following her, but considers it none the less.

“Maybe. When I found out I had a water affinity, I really wanted to emulate the Nidaime Hokage. I certainly had a lot of expectation for how to go about doing that.”

Honōka shrugs.

“If I tried to learn things the way other people do, I’d never learn anything.”

“Is that why you still can’t throw anything without maiming yourself or causing friendly fire?”

She gives Kakashi _the look_ and un-spools a length of wire from her arm guard.

“Have you ever been rabbit hunting, Kakashi-kun?” she threatens, channeling her sensei’s brand of _not nice_. Orochimaru secretly finds it hilarious when she does that.

“Now, now, you guys!” Minato hurriedly placates. He seems genuinely alarmed. “Let’s not fight…!”

Kakashi is more relaxed about it and interprets it as her issuing a challenge.

“Have you learned any new moves since we last sparred?”

She frowns. She hasn’t. Kakashi definitely has.

“No.”

Kakashi has a brief flash of disappointment, then his eyes narrow. He thinks she’s lying, trying to get him to lower his guard—which he grudgingly respects.

“I’m not lying.”

He shoots her a look of disbelief. He’s probably wondering if she can read minds. She can't, unfortunately.

“I’ve been figuring out the sensor stuff and learning general skills like wall climbing and water walking. I didn’t grow up with shinobi parents so there are lots of things I never learned that the Academy assumes students know already.”

“…maa, that’s true.”

“Oh, so that’s why we haven’t seen you on any D-ranks, Honōka-chan.” Minato says. “You’ve been quite busy catching up on the general skills and supplementary knowledge.”

“Snooping, Minato? It does not suit you.” Orochimaru rebukes, snappishly. Minato winces out a smile.

“Hey, why don’t we have Kakashi and Honōka-chan do D-ranks together?” he proposes. “That way Honōka-chan learns her way around the mission desk and Kakashi actually takes a break—um, gains experience leading a team.”

Orochimaru snorts. “If you think he is up for the responsibility, Minato.” He doesn’t mention that getting Honōka anywhere is like herding cats.

Naturally, D-ranks don’t go well. Alternatively, they go _too_ well.

Three of the supposed D-rank turn into C-ranks, as they apprehend a robber while painting a fence; face a flesh-eating boar while weeding a field; and bust a minor drug trafficking operation while cleaning up trash on the streets.

They’re reporting their latest exploits to the Hokage while their respective teachers stand to the side. The Hokage already scolded Orochimaru and Minato for not supervising their apprentices more actively.

“You did not tell me your student was a danger magnet, Minato.” Orochimaru drawls, sarcastically. He knows exactly who is responsible for the situation. He just likes making Minato sweat.

“I swear, this has never happened before! Kakashi is very by the book, usually…”

The Hokage sighs out a stream of smoke and Honōka waves it away. Her sensei told her it’s rude to show discomfort in front of someone smoking (if they’re Hokage-sama or Mitsuha specifically) but she doesn’t care.

“Kakashi-kun, Honōka-kun, do you have anything else to offer?”

Kakashi shakes his head. He already explained the mission parameters changed suddenly and it was their duty to apprehend the targets.

“Orochimaru-sama says it’s my responsibility as a sensor type to identify dangerous individuals in advance of my teammates while on a mission. I deemed the targets dangerous enough to bring to Kakashi-senpai’s attention.” And if Kakashi preens a little at being called senpai it goes unnoticed by the adults.

“Sensor type?” Hiruzen sounds outwardly surprised. “Natural or acquired?”

“Natural,” her sensei answers. “Innate, even. Honōka-kun, distance to targets and what alerted you to their presence.”

“The robber—twelve to fifteen meters. Target was in the process of securing a hostage to use as leverage. The hostage’s panic was overwhelming. The boar—fifteen to sixteen hundred meters—”

Minato nearly chokes. “Fifteen hundred meters?!”

Orochimaru shushes him with an open palm held up. He’s intrigued. Fifteen hundred meters is unusually far for Honōka.

“Target was weird. All the animals in the vicinity were frightened. Target was anxious and confused on closer inspection—itchy. Inuzuka Tsume confirmed the target was rabid postmortem.”

“Interesting. Continue.”

“The drug trafficking ring—within two hundred meters. Targets were on the lookout for shinobi, agitated. Their behavior was suspicious. I used a henge to transform into a street kid and was approached by the targets. They assumed I was a buyer. We reported the incident to the KKB—so we didn’t actually apprehend the targets. Uchiha Mikoto-san expressed to the Mission Assignment Desk that our tip was invaluable, resulting in the mission upgrade.”

Minato radiates nervous energy, like drops of water jumping on a hot surface. Orochimaru is amused but is keeping a surprisingly straight face. Hokage-sama seems fondly exasperated. 

“It would seem you have a rare gift, Honōka-kun. I’m glad Kakashi-kun was there to keep you on protocol.”

He puffs on his pipe and leans back in his chair. His mind is suddenly a million miles away, lost in thought.

“Personally, I feel both of you are operating on a level above genin—chūnin. However,” before anyone can get excited about potential promotions, “Tobirama-sensei was loath to promote children to any rank before eight, which I’ve already undermined.”

The regret, guilt, and self-loathing, is like a punch in the gut. She bites her tongue to keep from gasping.

It’s gone as fast as it appeared, and the Hokage continues.

“So, I will not be promoting either of you to chūnin at this time.”

Disappointment from Kakashi, relief from Minato, irritation from Sensei. Honōka decides it doesn’t bother her one way or the other.

“However, given your talents, I will leave it to your teachers’ discretion to take you on higher rank missions—where they will properly supervise your actions.”

Honōka frowns. So basically they’re chūnin. Gosh, the Hokage makes no sense sometimes. Does he have morals or not?


	14. Suiton: Kihōdan no Jutsu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Honōka skips into the kitchen through the back door, humming. She’s been having so much fun with her sensei and learning new things and then teaching her friends those new things. It’s the most fun she’s had in her entire life, she thinks. It’ll be sad when she has to use it against other people—but she’ll always remember the fun she had first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning--child abuse/torture. If you're reading, your warning is when you get to the part where the chapter summary begins.

Honōka gets used to running into Kakashi and Minato at the Third Training Ground. Sometimes she and Kakashi spar, or run D-ranks by themselves, or C-ranks with Minato. They manage to avoid B-ranks—mostly because Minato really doesn’t want to drag Honōka (or Kakashi) into any battles with foreign shinobi.

Occasionally, Minato teaches them a new jutsu. Specifically, he teaches Kakashi new techniques to keep him from demanding more missions, and Honōka listens raptly.

It’s a rainy day in June, a couple days after receiving her first custom armor from Mitsuha-obā-chan, when Minato attempts to teach Kakashi Suiton.

“A day like today is the perfect time to learn Suiton!” Minato promises. “With all this rain and humidity, there’s plenty to draw on for the jutsu.”

Kakashi is vaguely irritated with said rain and humidity—it’s saturated his spoofy silver hair, which is valiantly attempting to defy the extra weight slicking it down. Despite the miserable weather, nothing is enough to break his single-minded focus for learning new techniques.

“So, Suiton: Suidan no Jutsu—it’s a pretty versatile Water Release with many variations. It’s also a breath style technique, so you begin by kneading chakra in the stomach, then condensing it, transforming it, and finally expelling it through the mouth.”

Minato demonstrates by beginning with a deep breath in. Honōka bets that if she could see chakra, she would see the surrounding water and its chakra being drawn into the technique. She can’t though, so she watches the hand seals instead. _Tiger. Ox. Tiger. Rat._

He expels a great volume of water through his mouth that blasts a nearby tree. She compares it to…a fire hydrant. She ran through one as a kid and it blew her off her feet. But for a ninjutsu…it _is_ underwhelming.

Kakashi imitates Minato step by step and produces a sputtering spray similar to that of a large toy water gun. She laughs. Kakashi gives her a dirty look between wet coughs.

“Your turn, Honōka,” he baits. “You can’t laugh at something you haven’t first tried yourself.”

Minato winces at Kakashi’s harmless provocation.

“Ah, Kakashi, I’m not sure if Honōka-chan is ready for nature transformations—at least let her find out what her affinity is before trying. She might have a fire affinity—”

“I don’t.”

They both register surprise, then shake it off.

“See, Minato-sensei? Her teacher is Orochimaru-sama. Of course she knows what her affinity is already.” Smug satisfaction. He’s really looking forward to Honōka coughing up a lungful of water, apparently.

“I don’t have an affinity at all.”

Shock, then incredulous looks shared back and forth.

“It’s true.” She tells them. “My body is weird—or the way it handles chakra is. An affinity is a natural source of chakra that the body is sympathetic to, but my body filters all external chakra before internalizing it. We think that’s why genjutsu has no effect on me and why I can mold chakra without triggering any reaction in chakra paper.”

A twinge of guilt from Kakashi for baiting her, and a louder pang from Minato.

“Does that mean you can’t use nature transformation at all?” Kakashi asks. He makes it sound like the worst thing in the world.

She shrugs.

“I don’t know. Orochimaru-sama hasn’t gotten around to testing any of our theories.”

“Testing…theories…?” Minato suppresses a shiver of doubt.

“Un. Like—maybe it’s possible, but it might compromise my genjutsu immunity.” She twists her longest strands of hair around her first knuckle. “Or, maybe it won’t work at all; or maybe it’ll work without affecting my genjutsu immunity. Who knows?”

Kakashi crosses his arms at her. The answer is obvious to him—test it out. He’s awfully bossy for someone who isn’t even seven yet.

“Jaa, you should try it, Honōka. Nature transformation is an important skill to have as a shinobi.” So says the boy who could use chakra intense Earth Release techniques before the Academy. 

Sometimes, Honōka thinks Kakashi thinks he is the teacher.

“Would you like to hear the instruction again, Honōka-chan?” Minato asks.

“I’m fine. My friend has been trying to teach me Katon: Ryūka no Jutsu in our spare time. It sounds pretty similar.”

“Obito?” Kakashi asks, surprised but not.

“Un. His grandmother yelled at him for catching the yard on fire; we’ve been practicing at that big empty lot next to Uchiha-ku ever since. You should come over sometime.”

Kakashi hides his reservation behind a put-upon sigh and reminds her what the seals are. Minato sighs for a totally different reason.

She takes a deep breath and tastes the rain. She draws it in, samples its flavor deeply, and swallows it down into her belly. She forms the seals.

 _Tiger._ Think water. Wishy-washy, like Minato.

 _Ox._ Wet. Sensitive like unshed tears.

 _Tiger._ Fluid. Shifty—adaptable, a solution for every situation.

 _Rat._ She breathes out.

Honōka produces a misty spray similar to Kakashi’s—though she can immediately tell there’s less substance. She thinks she built up more pressure than Kakashi did, but didn’t have nearly enough volume. She runs out of juice and spits out the tickly remnants and wipes her mouth with the back of her wrist.

That was fun.

She thinks Kakashi’s dropped his jaw—there’s a little pucker in his mask. Minato is similarly flummoxed.

“She got it on the first try…!”

She clears her throat and casts the seals again.

“Minato-san, can you cast a genjutsu on me this time?”

“?!”

“So, I learned the Water Bullet Technique from Minato-san the other day—”

Orochimaru flashes her a look that’s three parts irritated and one part jealous. She swings her legs from her seat on a table in his lab office and tries to look properly remorseful.

“—and I asked him to cast a genjutsu on me while I was molding and transforming nature chakra. I’m pretty sure there was no affect.”

He raises an eyebrow, a touch of good humor returning. He loves hearing how the perfect Minato manages to be humanly imperfect.

“'Pretty sure'? Do you have doubts about Minato’s ability to cast a simple genjutsu?”

“He didn’t want to cast it while I was performing the jutsu—I think he was worried I would drown myself.”

“And you convinced him to anyway? How?”

She gives him Guy’s signature thumbs up.

“I asked him to do it for science.”

Orochimaru is so baffled that a surprised grin cracks his feigned impassive face. 

“Indeed, for science. Would you mind repeating the experiment?”

She looks around. There’s a lot of delicate looking instruments in the office. A wicked impulse strikes her and she puffs up her cheeks.

As expected, Orochimaru nips her lips between two fingers with a no-nonsense glare. He doesn’t get to warn or reprimand her before she laughs, water coming out through her nose and the corner of her unsealed lips.

“Really, Honōka-kun?” he seethes, shaking the drooly water off his hand. “What has gotten into you? I thought you had better manners than this…”

She’s half coughing, half crying, choking on her laughter. Orochimaru hands her a handkerchief to clean herself up with.

“There is a courtyard to utilize at times like this, unless you are planning on flooding the neighborhood with your new spitting technique.”

They adjourn to said courtyard, which isn’t so much a courtyard as it is an entire zen garden.

“Very well. Proceed.”

Honōka focuses on the taste of water and feels the subtle change of her chakra spinning smoothly in her lower dantian become a churning current instead. She gives her sensei another thumbs up.

He frowns, turning an unvoiced question over in his head before casting a genjutsu with a one handed seal.

As usual, nothing happens. She signs ‘mission failure’, which irks him to no end. He hates it almost as much as her ‘so-so’ sign.

“You are certain you are properly transforming your chakra?”

She blows bubbles at him—big, glossy, totally gross, bubbles. He scowls at her.

“Ah. I see you have discovered the joys of shape manipulation.” He blows an encroaching bubble away with a chakra enhanced breath. “Desist, now.”

He’s plenty grossed out, but actually quite impressed with her.

“How long did Minato waste teaching you this asinine technique?”

She frowns at him for two reasons: her bubble blowing jutsu is not asinine—it’s fun; and Minato didn’t teach her—she taught herself.

“Minato-san taught me and Kakashi Suiton: Suidan no Jutsu on Friday. On Saturday it was too rainy for Obito to show me Katon: Ryūka no Jutsu again, so I showed him the Water Bullet Technique instead. We noticed the consistency of the water could be changed while in the molding and transformation stage.”

“You figured this out in a single day…while playing?” he’s genuinely shocked and not sure what to feel beyond that.

“Un.”

“And your friend, Obito-kun, he learned this as well?”

“…yes? It wasn’t that difficult after I explained it to him, and he can already do two Fire Release techniques besides—and they’re all breath techniques. He’s had loads more practice than me.”

Surprise—and exasperation.

“Honōka-kun. Water is fire’s opposite—theoretically, water should be the most difficult nature transformation for Obito-kun to learn.” Pause. “Assuming fire is Obito-kun’s affinity.”

She shrugs. She doesn’t know. He feels kind of like fire—quick to anger, quick to burn out; never doing anything in half measures and going wherever the wind blows him.

“What about the other one—Rin-kun. Was she able to learn your modified Water Bullet Technique?”

“Rin’s father feels unwell when it rains. She was helping run the shop and couldn’t hang out.” They’ll show Rin next time. She’s pretty sure Rin has a water affinity. “We’re calling it Suiton: Kihōdan no Jutsu. We’re allowed to name it, right? Since we made it up and all.”

“Call it whatever you want,” he replies, shaking his head to himself. “Does it require any hand seals, or did you just—” he makes a single-handed flapping gesture, “wing it?”

She considers. Hand seals are supposed to be pathways for chakra to mold to, giving specific directions to be followed when focusing alone isn’t enough.

“We didn’t need any. Just, think water; soapy, light, and slippery. And, instead of forcing it out under pressure, a fast and steady exhale will do. Or, slower for bigger bubbles.”

He finds his tempo again and rolls his eyes. “I suppose with those characteristics, an adequate amount may very well succeed in sabotaging a potential enemy with a sudden and unexpected fall.”

She blows another sloppy bubble at him that he ruthlessly assaults with a senbon.

“Enough, child. Go home before you sabotage my lab with more of your…spit—” a shiver, “bubbles… Go on, dismissed.”

She bows to hide her smile.

“Bye-bye! Enjoy your evening, Orochimaru-sama.”

Honōka skips into the kitchen through the back door, humming. She’s been having so much fun with her sensei and learning new things and then teaching her friends those new things. It’s the most fun she’s had in her entire life, she thinks. It’ll be sad when she has to use it against other people—but she’ll always remember the fun she had first.

“What are you smirking about, brat?”

She stiffens—wants so badly to freeze, but forces herself to face her father. The expression melts off her face at his sneer.

“…”

He stomps across the kitchen and she does not let herself flinch or shrink away. He stops in front of her, hovering, and her mouth goes dry.

“I asked you a question, brat.” He radiates annoyance. Sweat beads on the back of her neck and she swallows.

“T-the weather is nice today?”

His face blanks and she allows herself the smallest amount of relief.

Then he grabs her hair and gives her a firm jerk. He’s testing her. Does he want her to cry or be silent?

…

_CRASH!_

The low table breaks under her body and she lets herself go limp. Does she curl or stay prone? Should she get up and run? She rolls onto her hands and knees.

_CRACK!_

She rolls. Pain explodes in her cheek and she numbly holds her eye socket, afraid her eye is coming out in the strange wetness coating her hand and cheek.

Her _fear-terror-choking-can’t-breathe_ paralyzes her and is so overwhelmingly loud that she can’t even begin to gauge what her father is feeling for a long moment.

Stay/go… _stay/go_?

Annoyance, sharp, foul tasting, _annoyance._

“Whoops—I gotta be real careful. That old geezer Ōkawa told me your kind make magic happen by putting your hands together…”

Something ~~_not nice_~~ crosses his mind and he smiles. Honōka blanks from the sheer terror she feels, and then he’s holding the rusty nut cracker they used when they could afford to eat crab.

Her breath comes out in short pants and she mouths ‘no’ over and over. Her legs feel heavy as he grabs her free hand.

…

_POP—CRUNCH!_

She chokes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out the comments for discussions on whether this chapter came out of nowhere, please.


	15. Oh dear, a trail. How highly suspicious.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “This better be important, Orochimaru. I was in the middle of a training seminar—” it occurs to her then, that the form her most eccentric teammate carries is a child—one that is clearly injured. “This way, now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning. Possibly graphic depictions of wounds? By the way, don't look up 'ripe plum' if hornets give you the hibbie jibbies.

Orochimaru clears his schedule. Danzō and his experiments can hang for all he cares. He’s hit a rather galling wall—he must start again from the beginning. And, while he waits for new materials, he has the perfect excuse to check in on his student’s growth.

It’s almost amusing how easily Honōka fooled Danzō with her clumsy little act. He thinks it would have been even more so if it didn’t mean Danzō now considers his apprentice a waste of time. But, and he praises Honōka’s instincts for this, better a waste of time than a potential asset.

The time is eleven hundred. He heads to the Third Training Ground. He’ll have an hour to figure out if his student’s new technique is a stroke of genius or just dumb luck. He reasons it must be rather simple if the Uchiha boy picked it up the same day. Uchiha Obito doesn’t appear to be the sharpest kunai in the tool pouch. 

He enters the training grounds, pausing as he passes the Memorial Stone. Not because he’s feeling anything inane like nostalgia or guilt—he knows there are names on the stone that are very much his doing and, regardless, nothing he feels can change that fact.

What catches his eye is the single drop of blood on the otherwise pristine Memorial Stone. It’s not recent—the oily serum and muddy clot have already separated, nearly dry even. Neither is it particularly old, as it rained early yesterday afternoon.

He’s ready to shrug it off. There are plenty of shinobi who might have visited the Memorial Stone after a mission in less than ideal physical condition. But he does cast a quick look about, just to be certain.

There’s another drop, and another. Oh dear, a trail. How highly suspicious. Whatever shall he do?

Never one to turn down a good mystery, he follows it. It doesn’t go far—just into the clearing where his sensei once treated him and his fellow Sannin to the bell test. The three wooden pillars, bleached nearly bone white from decades of weather exposure, are exactly as they should be.

But not everything is as it should be. The drip trail ends at the central pillar and the clearing is unusually quiet. He knows from years of experience that someone is on the other side of the obstruction; he palms a kunai and silently approaches.

A familiar child holds their knees to their chest, drowning in an ugly yellow tarp-like raincoat. One lock of messy black hair sticks out from the bloodstained hood.

Comprehension dawns, and yet still eludes him. Honōka-kun isn’t supposed to be here for another hour.

He drops to a knee in front of her and lays a hand on her shoulder. She jolts and a blade flecked with rusty blood protrudes from her right sleeve. He parries with his kunai easily. She was aiming for his ribs—which just won’t do. He will drill into her head to aim for the softer, far more vulnerable, belly—later.

“Honōka-kun, put down the knife.”

“Sensei…?”

She slowly lifts her head off her knees and he experiences the oddest feeling—like his stomach has dropped into free fall while the rest of him remains frozen in place.

Her face is lopsided. Swollen, bruised like an overripe plum, left eye sealed shut from either the swelling or the tallowy fluid glistening in the creases.

She’s yet to relinquish her bloody knife, and he hurriedly banishes all the extraneous thoughts—and emotions—flitting through his mind. He can think about murder when he has determined his student’s condition. 

The knife trembles in her grip and he pushes her coat sleeve up, intending to pry it from her if he has to. As she is now, he wouldn’t put it pass her to collapse on the damned thing.

Only, there’s no hand attached to the knife blade. It just protrudes from midway down her forearm, the border between flesh and blade a gradual transition. Henge, perhaps. He turns it over (palm up?) and she whimpers. There’s more bruising on her arm. A large hand print.

“I’m sorry—I’m sorry…!”

He puts a lid on his fury, again, and scoops her up.

“I am not upset with you, Honōka. Who did this to you?”

“I’m sorry,” she chants, over and over. “I’m sorry…!”

It takes every ounce of the considerable control he possesses to dull his killing intent. As it is, his presence of mind is just enough there that he produces an unused handkerchief to use as an impromptu swab of the blood on her transformed hand. Whoever attacked her won’t be getting away unscathed.

He body flickers the entire way to the Konoha Hospital, straight into the intensive care unit. A medic-nin warily approaches him, and he taps down the urge to snarl.

“Get Tsunade.” He knows she’s not on rotation in the field, and she lives at the hospital in much the same way that he lives at his lab.

“But—”

“Now.”

They spin on their heel and run. _Good._

He would commandeer a room and bed to put his student in, but he’s not Jiraiya. Tsunade would never let him hear the end of it if he did something so impulsive.

She appears in a few minutes, wearing a white surgical gown and pulling off blood soiled gloves.

“This better be important, Orochimaru. I was in the middle of a training seminar—” it occurs to her then, that the form her most eccentric teammate carries is a child—one that is clearly injured. “This way, now.”

He follows her without a token response into an empty room where she methodically preps the operation table. He lays his student down, who has been in and out of consciousness since the start. Her right eye blinks a couple times before shutting again.

“How long since the trauma occurred?”

“Up to eighteen hours ago.” Likely soon after he dismissed her.

“IV, now.”

He proceeds with her go ahead. Tsunade takes a flashlight and checks her pupillary light reflex. It seems fairly obvious to him that his student is concussed—but Tsunade is the expert here.

Honōka reacts to the unexpected light in her eye by flailing her bladed hand. He pins it down and Tsunade continues her examination without flinching.

Tsunade’s hands glow in what appears to be a new diagnostic form of the Mystical Palm Technique. Her brow wrinkles and she traps an angry sound behind pursed lips.

“Multiple skull fractures, swelling, but no bleeds. The orbital blowout fracture appears to be the worse. Ruptured globe and vitreous hemorrhaging.”

“Can the eye be saved?”

“I can save it—but even I can’t predict what the quality of vision will be after.” 

Tsunade looks immensely unhappy with that prognosis. 

“Whoever stomped on her face clearly aimed for the eye—she needs to go into surgery right now for me to have any chance of reconstructing it. But,” she gestures at the blade arm, “that’s got to go first.”

It’s a henge, so a sufficient jolt to the chakra system should disrupt it—only Honōka’s chakra system is particularly resistant to such intrusions. Tsunade is already attempting to disrupt it and is meeting with the expected result—nothing.

“It won’t work, Tsunade. She's immune to genjutsu—a brief flare will not disrupt her transformation.”

Tsunade is rightfully incredulous—total genjutsu immunity is unheard of. To make the leap from there that his student has an uncompromisable chakra network is bold but true.

“You can’t be serious.”

“I assure you, I am.”

“What’s this kid’s deal anyhow? Who is she?”

“Tsunemori Honōka. She is my apprentice.”

Tsunade is surprised, but doesn’t comment.

“Alright. Let’s wake her up then.” 

She rather crudely jabs a needle into his student’s fingertip. Honōka flinches, intact right eye rolling to and fro.

“Honōka, my name is Tsunade. You’re safe now, but you’ve been injured—”

“I’m sorry…I’m sorry…!”

“You’re safe, Honōka. You need to undo your henge so that I can help you.”

Honōka keeps apologizing, and Tsunade continues on with her usual bedside manners. Orochimaru inserts himself into the unproductive mess.

“Honōka-kun, mission report.”

She stops apologizing mid breath, eye squinting.

“Orochimaru-sama…?”

He sees her attention slipping away.

“Undo the transformation, Honōka-kun.” He orders.

She comes back to, somewhat coherently responding to his authoritative tone.

“Henge…transformation?”

“Your right hand, Honōka-kun.”

She tries to look but can’t lift her head or her right arm.

“It hurts.”

He shares a look with Tsunade. Another wound, most likely.

“You need to undo the transformation for us to look at your hand, Honōka.” Tsunade tries.

His student has begun shaking and mouthing ‘no’, over and over. A sheen of sweat coats her face.

Tsunade grabs an oxygen mask and hauls over an obnoxiously large monitor. He sits on the edge of the operating table and carefully immobilizes his student’s thrashing head.

“She’s going into shock—either get off the table and tie that arm down or do something to strip the transformation off, and fast.”

“Honōka-kun—” no response. He cups her cheek in his hand. “Honōka-kun. Look at me.”

He meets a near delirious blue eye, glaringly red pupil pinpoint small. Her gaze is unsteady, but she’s not looking away.

“Undo the transformation on your right hand. Now.”

Her lower lip trembles, and she signals ‘yes’ with her eye.

The blade morphs rather than reverts. It expands and becomes dark and shadowy before abruptly being a hand again. A hand with mangled digits barely attached.

Tsunade swears and immediately moves to stabilize the limb, swearing again as his student’s body suddenly jerks, spasming violently. A seizure.

“Don’t let her fall off the table, for fuck’s sake!”

She doesn’t need to tell him. However, doing so while attempting to let the seizure play out unrestrained is hard. It passes after a long minute.

“Recovery position.” Tsunade instructs after checking her pulse. She slips the oxygen mask over her mouth and double checks the IV. “Surgery prep now. Either get out and get me my assistant or shut up and suit up.”


	16. sleeping in the lion’s den

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tsunade eventually returns with the promised tea, lukewarm at best, and they sit in silence once more. They haven’t spoken much since Jiraiya decided to stay in Amegakure several years ago. He’s not quite certain where Jiraiya is these days. No one keeps him up to date anymore.

“That was a calculated disfigurement. Torture.”

He glances at his former teammate. 

“That would be the obvious conclusion.”

She snorts. “Who did you piss off this time? If you don’t want to ‘talk’ to them, I certainly do.”

He doesn’t think this is the handiwork of anyone he knows—they wouldn’t have made such a bold declaration. Or have let his student live. He hands Tsunade the handkerchief with blood from Honōka’s improvised weapon.

“The attacker’s blood?”

“Indeed.”

She takes the rag and stands up. They’ve been sitting in silence on the floor for the last hour, exhausted from several hours of consecutive surgeries. 

“Want me to bring back tea?”

“…As long as it's not cold.”

Tsunade scoffs, leaving with a single wave and no promises. Typical. Orochimaru picks himself up and off the floor.

His student rests in a hospital bed now, carefully propped up with her neck and head immobilized. Tsunade did everything she could to repair the ruptured eye; if she retains any vision at all in her left entirely depends on how the recovery period progresses.

He rolls a stool over and sits.

Tsunade eventually returns with the promised tea, lukewarm at best, and they sit in silence once more. They haven’t spoken much since Jiraiya decided to stay in Amegakure several years ago. He’s not quite certain where Jiraiya is these days. No one keeps him up to date anymore.

She clears her throat, but is interrupted by a knock on the door. Her teeth clack together and she gets up with a growl. Under different circumstances, he might have smirked at her.

“Tsunade-sama, Sandaime-sama is asking for you. He’s waiting in your office.”

“Sensei is?” she glances over her shoulder, fixing Orochimaru with an accusatory glare, as if it’s his fault their sensei is making house calls. It very well could be.

He stands and they head to Tsunade’s office.

“Any idea what this is about?” she asks.

“Tsunemori Honōka was assigned to me by Sarutobi-sensei. No doubt, he monitors her general whereabouts.”

“I thought it was strange for you to suddenly take on an apprentice.”

They arrive. Sarutobi Hiruzen stands at a dark window. It’s nearly midnight.

“Sensei,” Tsunade greets. “You wanted to see us?”

He turns to them. This war is aging him, Orochimaru thinks.

“How is Honōka-kun?”

Tsunade clicks her tongue. “Critical but stable.”

A rare fury burns in their sensei’s eyes. He and his former teacher haven’t been on the best of terms lately, and this incident may very well be the last straw. 

“What happened, Orochimaru?”

He clenches his teeth and holds back his own temper. Why does everyone assume these heinous acts are purely his fault? He’s never intentionally maimed a child—war and his work for Danzō aside.

“I do not know.” He admits, which is as galling to Orochimaru as it is to Sarutobi.

“Do you know Honōka-kun reports to me?”

“I do.”

“When did you find out?”

“The day I met her.”

Clearly not the answer his teacher was expecting.

“She is very transparent on most matters," he taunts. "We have been working on her confidentiality skills.”

Sarutobi does not have the capacity to feel embarrassed about such a slip up, clearly, though he does sigh. It seems he may have thought Honōka had been sussed out and punished.

“When did you see Honōka-kun last?”

“Monday. I dismissed her at sixteen fifty hours.”

“What time did you find her at the Third Training Ground? I noticed you’ve been consistently booking it out from twelve hundred to seventeen hundred hours.”

“I arrived an hour early to test a new jutsu. Honōka-kun was resting against the center wooden post.”

“Her condition?”

“Severe head trauma. Her right hand was hidden under an unusual transformation. When the transformation ended it was revealed to have been mutilated by a blunt toothed instrument, likely pliers. Tsunade suspects it was intentional.”

“Torture.”

“It would appear so.”

Sarutobi’s eyes narrow and his killing intent nearly stifles the room.

“Potential suspects?”

“None that would be so bold to touch what is mine and expect to survive.”

His teacher looks surprised that he would voice such threats aloud. They’re technically treasonous—you don’t threaten to murder your fellow shinobi and expect the Hokage to nod and smile.

“We’re examining blood from defensive…wounds.” Tsunade supplies. “If it’s anyone we’ve tagged before, we’ll know where to look.”

“Good. I won’t stand for this brand of violence to go unpunished in Konoha. Keep me informed.” 

Tsunade puts his student in a medically induced coma. They’ve yet to operate on the orbital blowout fracture beyond assuring it places no further pressure on her left eye. The swelling is simply too great for a zero risk surgery. And her eye, in particular, will benefit from absolute motionlessness. The less said about the swelling on her brain, the better.

The results from the blood test won’t be in until later that day, so he takes the time to head back to the lab and clean up. He’s not surprised when Danzō makes an appearance.

“You’ve been away, Orochi.”

“My student was assaulted and tortured.” He watches Danzō’s expression very carefully.

“Tortured?” he frowns. “I hope nothing—compromising—was exposed.”

Orochimaru considers. It seems Danzō is, for once, totally unrelated to the incident.

“There was not. The lack of motive makes the whole incident rather inexplicable.” He has no doubt Danzō has some order for him or other such nonsense, which he skillfully evades. “I would stay around to chat, but I am expected to report to Sensei soon. I do believe I am being cross-examined.”

“Do you need an alibi?”

He resists rolling his eyes. Rich, and yet totally believable coming from Danzō. He wishes that sounded sarcastic in his own head.

“There is no need. I do have one.”

He arrives at the hospital lab in time to hear Tsunade let loose a string of expletives.

“Are you certain? One hundred percent certain?”

“Y-yes!”

“Sage’s saggy fucking tits!” Her murderous intent makes a rare appearance. It’s always something to behold. “I’m going to hang that bastard up by his balls!”

“I do hope you are not talking about me,” he comments, dryly. 

“It’s certainly debatable!”

He freezes. What now?

“What?”

She shoves the blood work results at his chest. He wishes she wouldn’t do that. She knows he hates being handed things.

“That blood you collected? It’s almost certainly a relative of Tsunemori Honōka. My bet is on the father. Mother fucker was in on Monday evening for treatment of ‘superficial’ stab wounds. Sound familiar?”

_“What?”_

Tsunade kicks a chair over—it slams into a wall and practically explodes into splinters.

“I examined her for previous wounds and guess what? There were _lots_ of old fractures and odd scars. By themselves, sadly not unusual for a young shinobi. Altogether, though—I’ve seen war prisoners with _less_.” Here, Tsunade loses steam. Marginally so. “Did you never fucking ask where her bruises were coming from? She to had to be covered in them, constantly.”

She was, and he assumed she was getting them from sparring with her friends. And yet, nearly every time he checked in, they were training non-violently.

“Yes, I have seen bruises. No, I did not ask where the bruises were coming from. She spars frequently with her friends. Not only that, she has a habit of sticking her nose where it does not belong on missions.”

“She never said anything? No complaints about her home life?”

He considers.

“None.”

“Nothing you found odd at all?”

“…There are few things I find normal about Honōka-kun.”

“Coming from you, that must be saying something.”

He rolls his eyes and Tsunade sighs.

“This fucking complicates shit.”

“How so?”

“Her father is a civilian. We’re going to have to petition the daimyō for a trial.”

He snorts. “Really, Tsunade? Weren’t you just saying you were going to hang the bastard up by the balls?”

She massages her temple.

“Civilians go missing on the road—never to be seen or heard from again—all the time. I am sure we can arrange something.”

“Orochimaru…”

“Tell me you haven’t thought about it.”

“…”

“I thought so.”

“Sensei will know—and he won’t approve.”

“Oh, but I doubt he will say anything or be more than passingly disappointed for what he deems an appropriate amount of time.”

She sighs again.

“What about Honōka? Is that the kind of justice she would want?”

He considers. Something tells him he wouldn’t be able to hide his involvement from Honōka, no matter how he handles it.

“Well?”

“I will ask her.”

Tsunade flashes him a horrified look.

“You’ll ‘ask’ her? Orochimaru—you…! You can’t just ask a little girl if it’s okay for you to fucking murder her father!”

He gives Tsunade an equally unimpressed look. Honōka makes more sense than Tsunade, sometimes.

Tsunade sighs. “…Do we tell Sensei the results of the blood test or just say they were inconclusive?”

“Do you honestly think he won’t figure it out—or doesn’t already suspect?”

She draws in a hissing breath.

“Shall we go report?”

“Oh, let’s.”

They report their findings and suspicions. Sarutobi-sensei draws on his pipe for a long moment in silence.

“Did I tell you how I met Honōka-kun?”

Orochimaru holds in his scoff.

“No, you did not. You gave me a vague letter of introduction promising me a prodigy with uniquely genius intellect. It was quite lackluster, really.”

Sarutobi chuckles dryly.

“She took the entrance exam and passed on a technicality. On the first day of class her homeroom teacher realized he had mistakenly given a civilian child the orphan registry forms. Naturally, we questioned her on why she would attempt to join the Academy without her parents’ permission. She made it sound like her parents were dismissive, but not neglectful. Uneducated, but not spiteful. And, she made it clear she knew exactly what she was asking for—understood the danger. Permission was sought and granted. 

“That should have been the end of it—just another student admitted under less than usual circumstances.”

“But it was not.” Honōka-kun wouldn’t have become his apprentice if it were.

Sarutobi-sensei nods.

“She consistently performed at a much higher level than her peers, intellectually and physically; she quickly learned skills that even shinobi children, born and raised, struggle with. Jūn-kun described her as being driven, but not impatient.

“She passed the written exam in March with the highest grade ever awarded. As you both know, the genin certification exam has questions that are specifically meant to be skipped to save time. Part of being a genin is understanding there are times you won’t know the answer and to leave it for someone more qualified to answer. Those questions didn’t even phase her. She answered every question on the exam and still had time to spare.

“That’s when I decided she would be a good fit for you, Orochimaru.”

He snorts. There’s little he can say to rebuke Sarutobi-sensei—he and Honōka are an odd pair, and yet it works.

“I wasn’t completely set on it, at first, so I spoke to her again when she graduated. She has rather particular opinions on general education that I think both you and Tsunade would appreciate. You should ask her about it sometime.” 

A cough from Sensei. Perhaps he does not fully see eye to eye with Honōka. 

“Specifically, she believes education will ‘expand horizons’ here in the village, both for civilians and shinobi—that knowledge will ‘chase away the lingering darkness of the Warring States Period.’ She told me that there is friction between civilians and shinobi, and that it’s a divide that education will bridge—and that we should all, civilians and shinobi, be proud to call ourselves members of the Village Hidden in the Leaves.”

It’s the first he’s hearing of it. Honōka doesn’t talk about ‘dreams’ with him, and she does not appear to be patriotic in the least. She’s more interested in learning—when her attention isn’t wandering about like a lost puppy.

“I asked her if life had been unkind to her.” Sensei taps his desk absently, a hint of regret clouding his eyes. “She said it could have been much worse, so I gave her the option of apprenticing with my former student. Do you know what her only concern was? That you liked learning things.” Sensei chuckles mirthlessly. “That’s all that mattered to her. I thought she was awfully confident facing the Snake Hidden in the Leaves.

“I felt like I was throwing her to the wolves, when in reality she was already sleeping in the lion’s den.”

Orochimaru doesn’t know whether he should be flattered or insulted—but he’s known for sometime now that Sarutobi-sensei suspects the worst of him.

He's done _socializing_ and waves them off before either he or Tsunade can think of something to say, anything to ask him.

“You’ve listened to an old man ramble long enough. I’m sure you both have better things to do.”


	17. “That would be the general anesthesia.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ah. She didn’t die then. She feels disappointed, then ashamed. Angry. Being alone with her feelings is nauseating. Oh, never mind. She’s genuinely nauseated. She feels like she’s spinning so she closes her eyes again. It doesn’t help.

It’s the itching that brings her around, or possibly the beeping. The confusion is crippling. She spends a long time trying to convince herself to open her eyes, but not quite winning. The tiredness and heaviness and the sticky eyelids scare her. It feels like the day she was born. Again.

The fear ebbs away and she feels oddly…content. She tells herself shouldn’t be so comfortable about dying again, but part of her optimistically supplies _third time’s the charm_.

She blinks. It’s dark, but she can feel bedsheets.

Ah. She didn’t die then. She feels disappointed, then ashamed. Angry. Being alone with her feelings is nauseating. Oh, never mind. She’s genuinely nauseated. She feels like she’s spinning, so she closes her eyes again. It doesn’t help.

She blinks a couple more times. There’s a fuzzy grey obstruction on the edge of her vision. Right. Her left eye. It doesn’t hurt, but she’s not sure if it’s even still in its socket. Her entire body feels tingly and itchy. 

It gradually gets easier to focus her right eye in the dark room, but her neck is in a brace. She can’t lift or turn her head.

There’s a rolling over-bed table right in her line of sight, though. It takes a moment to make sense of its contents.

Cards. All handmade. A giant octopus plushie. Lots of brightly colored flowers. The beeping monitor picks up pace and she squeezes her eye shut.

She cries.

The sun creeps onto the far horizon and a medic-nin comes in to replace her IV drip and check her charts. They nearly jump when they catch the eyeshine from her single eye in the semi-dark room, but recovers quickly.

“Good morning, Honōka-kun. How are you feeling? Any discomfort?” Clinical, impersonal—but not unconcerned.

“…”

She knows exactly what they’re feeling, but she’s afraid to open her mouth. Her heart thumps in her throat, beating deceptively regularly even as she feels sweat breaking out over her forehead.

They don’t push her for a response. After another moment, they finish checking her charts and leave as quietly as they came in. Even then, she doesn’t relax. 

Her tongue feels like it's choking her and she thinks she’s suffocating for a while. When she’s eventually able to take in a deep breath, she feels dizzy and nauseous all over again. It takes her consciously regulating her breath to fight off the creeping panic attack, and by the time she manages that, there’s _another_ person in the room.

She freezes. They have a very…bold presence, and a robust figure.

“Good morning. How are you feeling?”

“…”

Her expression is easy, relaxed, but her concentration is deliberate. A poker face.

“Any nausea? Itching? You’ve been in a coma for five days. It’s normal if you feel confused or numb.”

“…”

The unfamiliar blond woman checks her charts and IV, heels clicking softly against the floor. She isn’t dressed like a medic-nin. Honōka’s heart picks up a couple beats per minute this time, and she swallows dryly. It draws the woman’s attention.

“Relax, kid. I’m Senju Tsunade. Your sensei and me go way back.”

Her lips are still moving, but Honōka can’t hear her over the rushing blood in her ears. The woman moves closer, one hand glowing green, and her paralyzing fear flares. Fight or flight engages like a dying engine turning over.

The green glow touches the cast on her right arm, and Honōka flares her chakra in response. The two chakras collide and cancel each other out with a loud pop and the woman takes a generous step back, both hands held up.

She’s completely exasperated, partially with herself and partially with someone else—but not at Honōka. Then she’s gone between one blink and the next and Honōka forces herself to draw in deep panting breaths. She’s finally able to clench her left hand in the sheets, and she focuses on clenching and unclenching her trembling fingers.

“Honōka-kun, Tsunade tells me you are being difficult.”

“Sensei…?”

Just hearing Orochimaru’s voice is like hitting the reboot button on her brain. He’s close enough to touch. She grabs his sleeve, expecting him to brush her off even as she does. He doesn’t.

“You know very well that Tsunade is a medical-nin with no peer.”

She nods. Everyone in Konoha knows, and Rin made sure she knew too.

“Tsunade is going to check your injuries now. Do not fight her.”

She focuses on the material of her teacher’s sleeve and fights back the hysteria. She resolutely does not look in Tsunade’s direction, or even in her sensei’s direction. She looks up instead and loses herself in the minute paint cracks on the ceiling.

She faintly hears Tsunade declaring her hand in good shape. Good does not mean great or perfect, and while the surgery was successful, joint stiffness would not be an unexpected side effect—which may improve over time, or worsen.

The bandages around her head and eye are removed and the trembling returns. She grips her sensei’s sleeve harder and endures.

“Anything?” Orochimaru asks.

Light flicks into her good eye, and then out.

“…no. The eye looks whole and healthy but the pupillary light reflex is only being triggered by interconnected reflexes.”

“What about an eye transplant?”

“A regular eye won’t cut it. The only successful whole eye transplants ever recorded have been with dōjutsu bearing eyes.”

“…”

“Please do _not_ start a civil war over a single eye, Orochimaru…touching as your concern is.” Tsunade sighs. “It’s not like her depth perception is totally shot—the brain takes cues from other things, too.”

“Her shurikenjutsu is hopeless anyhow.”

A sputter from Tsunade. Her sensei is actually faintly amused. She finds her own lips curling up despite herself.

A cool hand rests on the top of her head. She blinks a couple times, eyes dry from going without for so long.

“There you are. How are you feeling, Honōka-kun?”

“Fuzzy. Pins and needles all over.”

“That would be the general anesthesia.”

She yawns. “Tired. Hungry.”

“Will you eat now or after you rest?”

Her stomach burns, she’s that hungry.

“…Now, please.”

“Very well. Miso soup with tōfu?”

“And konbu…”

He hasn’t lifted his hand off her head, and she hasn’t let go of his sleeve. It should be awkward, but she’s grounded by the contact. She’s never known her teacher to be anything but intense curiosity and equally tense irritation. He’s just…calm.

She thinks if her head weren’t so fuzzy she could delve deeper into the flickering thoughts whizzing beneath the surface. But she’s more than content to tread the surface for the moment.

A day later she’s reading her get well soon cards when Tsunade knocks on her open door. She’s in a private ward now.

“Feeling up to seeing anyone? You have visitors, and they’re making a racket in the waiting room.”

“…Obito?” she hopes it is. She doesn’t know what she would say or how she would react if it were her family.

“If he’s an Uchiha kid, then yeah. He’s there with a whole gaggle of brats. They’re not all going to fit up here.” She says it as a matter of fact, and also as a cautious reminder about selecting only visitors she can actually handle.

“Just Obito.” He’ll let her know who else is down there.

Tsunade nods. “I’ll send him up.”

She sits quietly while she waits, flipping through her cards again. There’re cards from Asuma and Kurenai, Guy, Rin (Obito signed as well), Jūn-sensei, Minato and someone named Kushina, and Kakashi. There’s a paw print on it and an ugly drawing of what she supposes is a pug. It’s unexpectedly cute.

Obito barges in, arms full of treats. He and the others must have been to Akimichi-chō. 

“Yo, Honōka! How ya feeling?”

She signs ‘so-so’ and Tsunade makes an offended noise.

“Whaddya mean, ‘so-so’?” the Sannin wheels on her charts. “No patient of mine is gonna be ‘so-so’, kid. What’s bothering you?”

“…my cheek hurts.”

A click of the tongue that somehow still conveys sympathy.

“I’ll add a little something to your IV. Your last surgery was the day before you woke up, so it’s really not surprising you’re still feeling some discomfort.”

Honōka thinks shinobi have a skewed understanding of what ‘some discomfort’ is.

“Jeez, just how many surgeries did you need?” Obito grumbles. He’s feeling ‘some discomfort’ from her beat up and taped together appearance. Tsunade gives him a withering glare that dares him to make another comment. She’s worried Obito is moving into dangerous territory.

She holds up her casted arm. It completely covers everything from her elbow all the way to her fingertips.

“This many.” She deadpans.

Obito immediately gets her and laughs. Tsunade looks at them like they’re both nuts. 

“I guess I can tell Orochimaru your sense of humor survived.”

She spends another week in the hospital. Rin and Obito visit every day. Guy challenges her to checkers and half a dozen other games. Kurenai paints her stubby fingernails when the cast comes off. Asuma and his father visit with a ridiculously expensive assortment of fancy manjū.

Kakashi and Minato visit once, and they’re so achingly depressing that she blows bubbles at them until they’re thoroughly coated in slippery chakra-fueled magical spit water. They’re too grossed out to be depressed after that. Kakashi makes her promise to teach them the jutsu later.

She doesn’t see much of her teacher in that entire week—but she knows he’s around. His distinctive intense-like-a-rubber-band-about-to-snap presence brushes along her awareness from time to time.

Then it’s time for her to be discharged from the hospital, and she’s worriedly chewing her lip in a private office with Tsunade.

Tsunade hands her a clipboard to sign, and she’s momentarily confused. She’s a minor, shouldn’t her parents be signing her discharge?

“See, this is why I keep telling Sarutobi-sensei there needs to be a class on bylaws.”

“It would be helpful,” she agrees.

“You signed some very long-winded forms when you joined the Academy, and when you took the genin certification exam, you signed some more.”

Realization dawns. She hides her face behind the clipboard.

“You mean the Genin Emancipation Act applies to children with legal guardians as well as orphans?”

Tsunade nods.

Honōka laughs. Somewhere along the line it turns into her crying.


	18. a duck carrying a leek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His student blinks at each of them, eyebrows puckering as she reads the change in mood. She slowly hoists herself into Tsunade’s leather desk chair and begins swinging her legs.

Orochimaru walks in on Tsunade hugging his crying student, awkwardly cradling her head against her thighs.

It’s fairly amusing to see his former teammate mouth ‘help’ to him. Of course, voicing her discomfort (even silently) is enough to make Honōka disengage. Tsunade is still underestimating his student’s sensitivity. 

She hands her a tissue.

“Don’t scrub kid, dab, gently.”

She follows Tsunade’s advice and finishes by loudly blowing her nose. Her eyes are still tear stained, but she stands firm again, his precocious student.

Tsunade glances at him and he nods.

“Right…Honōka, you might want to take a seat.”

His student blinks at each of them, eyebrows puckering as she reads the change in mood. She slowly hoists herself into Tsunade’s leather desk chair and begins swinging her legs.

Tsunade gathers herself with a deep breath and crosses her arms firmly across her bust.

“I’m going to come out and say it—you are _not_ going back to your parent’s house.”

Honōka does not protest, but her legs do stop swinging for a beat. She nods and resumes.

“Do you know why you are not going back to your parent’s house, Honōka-kun?” he asks. Tsunade gives him a dirty look.

“…”

She’s staring through the wall behind his head. She’s either already zoned out or deliberately avoiding the question.

“You are not going back because _someone_ in your household took _this_ to your dominant hand.” He slaps down a nut cracker, of all things. Rusty, well used, and misused.

Tsunade pales, rounding on him.

“Orochimaru!—”

“Someone in your household intentionally disfigured your hand. Do you know why they would do such a thing?”

“…”

“They did this to cripple you. A shinobi who cannot use hand seals in battle is as a duck carrying a leek on its back to a potluck is.”

“…”

“Orochimaru—”

“You are _lucky_ Tsunade is exceptionally skilled at reattaching fingers and undoing nerve damage. Nod if you understand the severity of your injury.”

“…”

She nods. Good.

“Do you understand you were not so lucky in regards to your left eye?”

Another slow nod.

“Let me ask you this—” and this is the part that he can’t make sense of at all, “how did you allow yourself to come to such harm?”

Tsunade grabs him by the shoulder and bears down with her considerable strength. He does not allow himself to be turned away or cowed, even as his collar bone protests.

“At any point you could have easily subdued your attacker. Instead, you allowed yourself to be subjected to what I can only imagine was _excruciating_ pain—such that there came a point when you could no longer bear it and stabbed your attacker three times.”

The foot swinging finally stops.

“We have already established you are an emotional sensor—that years of hypervigilance, during your formative years no less, resulted in you developing an uncannily specific chakra sensitivity. You cannot tell me that you did not know—well in advance!—that your _father_ planned on attacking you.”

She’s absolutely still for a long moment, not a single breath or twitch. Then she sucks in a stuttering breath and says, “I’m sorry.”

His stomach drops through the floor and an icy burn rushes through his veins. For a second, he thinks it’s anger that he is feeling. It is not. He does not know what it is. And when he speaks, his voice is a bare whisper.

“Do not apologize to me, Honōka.”

“…”

“Tell me what your father felt when he attacked you. How did you not know?” He has to understand what went wrong. He won't let it happen a second time.

Tsunade finally turns on him, eyes blazing.

“Orochimaru, do you have an _ounce_ of fucking tact?!” she whispers, spitting furiously. “Are you even considering Honōka’s feelings here? Everything’s always about you, isn’t it? You—”

“Annoyance.”

Tsunade breaks off, shocked that Honōka could find it in herself to answer, emotionally strained as she is. He has news for Tsunade—his student is, evidently, always emotionally strained—and it’s never stopped her from carrying on with her life before.

“Annoyance?” he asks.

“Really, really, _not nice_ annoyance. Unfocused, though.” 

He freezes. She’s used that word to describe him before—when they were testing her sensing range and he would intentionally aim killing intent at her. She never failed to detect him when he did.

He suspects now that the rabid boar with the ‘weird’ feeling had the animal equivalent of either killing intent or blood lust. 

More importantly, she equates killing intent with something as _mundane_ as annoyance.

“I didn’t know…if he wanted to hit me, or was only thinking about it. Sometimes, he just yells. Sometimes he…wants me to cry. Sometimes he wants me gone. I…froze. I couldn’t figure out what he wanted fast enough. I’m sorry…”

He is shocked. He is genuinely shocked. Somehow, a child of scarcely seven is so desensitized to killing intent that it apparently registers as _annoyance._ From the most seasoned jōnin to the most inexperienced genin, every shinobi knows killing intent for what it is. And when they feel it, they don’t attempt to determine the subtle _nuance_ of it. That would be utterly foolish! 

He hopes she doesn’t think he’s aiming his _annoyance_ at her. That’s reserved strictly for her father.

“I’ve waited long enough,” he informs her, “would you be terribly against your father getting permanently lost on the road of life?”

Tsunade palms her forehead and Honōka’s eyes widen.

“No.”

“Perfect—”

“ **No**.”

He frowns. _No._ He feels irritation frothing at the back of his throat and hopes _irritation_ is not annoyance. Surely she doesn’t mean to just let the incident go?

Then she says something unexpected—profound, even.

“Death is not punishment—it's not justice…and it is _not_ closure. It’s a vengeance that never heals.”

Moments like these are what make Orochimaru question his student’s sudden appearance in his life—her very existence, even. If gods exist, he thinks, they’re determined for Honōka to chastise him. But he does not believe in gods, precisely, so he settles for wondering where a seven-year-old child pulls this wisdom from. Tsunade is equally flummoxed.

“Very well.” He decides to bite. “What is punishment? I somehow doubt doing to him as he did to you is what you have in mind.” That’s the route he would go, personally. He’d be sure to make it _not nice_.

“…punishment is the complete arrest of…his lifestyle. Incarceration. Being held accountable for the crime committed by his peers and the community is justice. Closure is him never being free to act again in the way that he did…”

“It would be much easier to kill him.”

She surprises him yet again when she meets his gaze and does _not_ look away. He thinks this is the first time he’s seen Honōka look genuinely upset.

“I don’t want vengeance for a single crime committed by one man. I want justice for every person who has ever been hurt by another person's abuse.” Absolutely unwavering conviction. “And, if I let the issue go—or make it disappear—what does it mean for the next person this happens to? Who fights for them if I don’t fight for myself now?”

Eye contact has never made him feel as Honōka’s does now. He feels vulnerable, like a single thought will bring it all to the surface. Every wrong he’s ever committed, ever hurt he’s ever caused. Every moral he’s ever abandoned.

“I don’t want to live in a world where crime goes undetected and criminals are unremarked upon.”

He looks away first. Even Tsunade is refusing to look up from the floor.

“Very well.”

They have a daimyō to petition. He will see what the Uchiha and the Konoha Keimu Butai can do about a civilian child abuser in the meantime. 


	19. “Less talking, more retrieving.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’d actually be an item retrieval mission—probably only D-rank. You’d have to be a genin to participate though.” Kakashi provides with an exaggerated shrug. He’s smirking under the mask. Genma must still be an Academy student. Likely an orphan, if he’s a student in the genin apartments.

Honōka leaves the hospital in borrowed clothes, hauling her octopus plushie and a paper bag full of cards and treats in one arm. Her sensei tells her the address to the genin apartments and heads in the opposite direction to deal with something important feeling.

She gets to the apartments on her own time. Sensei gave her his checkbook so she may have stopped to buy manjū…and then takoyaki. But she gets there, eventually.

There are three identical apartment buildings, three floors each with flat roofs. She’s looking for building number two, which is not the building in the center. After a moment of squinting, she determines it’s the building on her right.

She’s not (that) concerned. About her vision.

Rin’s father had an appointment the day before and after he finished, he came by to visit her. Sōji knows a few shinobi with missing eyes and other visual impairments and, apparently, it gets easier to focus and judge distance after a couple months. The brain just needs time to learn new strategies for judging those things.

Hopefully, her brain gets the memo soon.

She enters her new apartment building and checks for a map. No-go, so she walks the first floor. Eight rooms. Her room is on the third floor then, room number eighteen. Sensei teased her that she couldn’t possibly forget. Her birthday is on the eighteenth of June, after all. Tsunade didn’t find it so funny.

The stairs are tricky. She trips a couple times before determining that not looking will save her shins. If her hands weren’t otherwise engaged, the rail would really help too.

She reaches her floor and then her apartment. She puts down her stuff and takes out her new key. Getting it to fit in the lock is her next task. It’s won’t an easy one. She makes a fair amount of noise, which has her neighbor in sixteen opening his door to complain at her.

“Come on; it’s Sunday! Some of us are trying to sleep in…” a young, grumpy, voice.

He’s on her left, so she can’t see him at all without turning her head or facing him. She looks over and her knuckles smack the doorknob. She drops her key as tingling pain shoots through her right hand and holds back a sad sigh.

It’s a boy, maybe a little older than her. Chin length hair that might be unwashed or just lank, wearing a housecoat or hoody, and chewing on a long toothpick…or a senbon. Senbon. It’s shiny.

She’s about to apologize, but Sensei keeps reminding her to not apologize when she doesn’t mean it.

“…”

She bends down to pick up her key and smacks her forehead right on the doorknob. She hits the ground like a sack of potatoes, pops of color radiating outward in her stupid lopsided vision.

Concern trumps grump, and he closes the distance to offer her a hand up as the spinning stops.

“That’s definitely going to bruise,” he tells her—like she can’t already feel it bruising, “you’re new, yeah? I’ll get you some ice from my freezer.”

Honōka holds her forehead, feeling faintly nauseous from the newest smack to her dented noggin. Sensei is going to chew her out when he sees the mark. If he sees the mark. She’ll put her hitai-ate on when she gets into her apartment.

She leans down again, carefully placing one hand on the doorknob to avoid a repeat performance. She misses her key on the first reach and has to swallow back angry tears.

The boy leaves for the promised ice and she tries unlocking her door again. She hopes she has the right building and right apartment.

There’s a buzzy rash of irritation from her other neighbor in number twenty. The door opens and she could cry in relief.

“Honōka?”

“Morning, Kakashi. Can you open my door for me?”

Confusion meets concern as he takes in the swelling red bump in the middle of her forehead.

The boy from number sixteen reappears with the ice and Kakashi glares.

“What did you _do,_ Genma?”

 _“Me?_ I didn’t do anything this time, I swear!”

Kakashi doesn’t look convinced. The boy panics a little.

“Look! She smacked her own dumb head on the doorknob. Back me up, kid!”

She doesn’t get where this boy, Genma, gets off calling her a kid when there’s probably only a year or two difference between them. But, she supposes, she is much shorter than both boys. She holds her hand out for the ice.

Genma gives her the ice, wrapped in a threadbare dish towel, and Kakashi takes her key. The door opens on the first try.

“You okay, Honōka?”

She sniffs. Not really.

“Depth perception is hard.”

Surprised recognition from her other neighbor. With all the cards she received from her former Academy classmates, it’s not surprising that her injury is becoming well known.

“You’re that other genius from last year’s first years, Tsunemori Honōka, yeah? You’re the kid who can make a henge smell like the target!”

She bobs her head once. That’s…not really what she expected to be semi-famous for. She’ll take it.

She attempts to grab her stuff and doesn’t miss for once, but her right hand is still sensitive from surgery and noodly from accelerated healing. Even her stuffed octopus is too heavy for her to pick up.

Kakashi wordlessly picks up her stuff, carrying it into her mostly empty apartment.

Genma stands awkwardly in the doorway, feeling like he’s somehow intruding.

“You can come in.” She tells him. “What’s your name?”

His reservations are still there, but he feels less unwelcome.

“I’m Shiranui Genma. Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

There’s a table with proper chairs and she sits in one after making sure she isn’t going to miss it. She sighs aloud this time.

Kakashi raises an eyebrow at her.

“Rough morning?”

“Depth perception is hard.” She repeats, with feeling.

He says nothing more for a moment, just plops her plushie on the table in front of her.

“Is this everything you have?”

“The rest is still at home—at my parents’ house. I have to go get my armor and stuff eventually, but Sensei said I’m not to go there alone under any circumstance.”

“Man, that sucks.” Genma says, feigning nonchalance with all the cunning of a three legged-goose. “Too bad there’s nobody to go with you on a daring rescue mission.”

“It’d actually be an item retrieval mission—probably only D-rank. You’d have to be a genin to participate though.” Kakashi provides with an exaggerated shrug. He’s smirking under the mask. Genma must still be an Academy student. Likely an orphan, if he’s a student in the genin apartments.

Kakashi’s sense of humor only rarely makes appearances. She shakes off her thoughts and takes out her sensei’s checkbook and a pen. 

“D-ranks go for five to fifty thousand ryō, right? Ten thousand ryō sound good to you?” she asks.

“Thirty thousand,” Kakashi challenges.

Genma’s gaze snaps between them, back and forth. 

“Uh, guys… I think it’s illegal to issue missions without the Hokage’s permission.”

She nods. Of course it is.

“You’re right. Thirty thousand—twenty thousand should cover hush money and so on.”

Kakashi crosses his arms.

“Fifty thousand.”

“Oh, if you insist.”

Genma is actually panicking now. She puts down the pen.

“Let’s just go get my stuff back and I’ll buy you both lunch.”

Genma clutches his chest and lets out a wobbly breath. “I never known when you genius types are joking or not, and now there’s two of you?” he shivers. “Hold on. I’ll go get dressed and we can get your stuff back, Honōka.”

He leaves to prepare and Honōka laughs. He _was_ wearing his housecoat.

Kakashi’s mood turns a bit pensive and it triggers a twinge of doubt in herself. Should they really be doing this? She’s not going alone, so it’s not like she’s disobeying her sensei…

“Genma is a half decent shinobi,” Kakashi remarks, as if he’s the one who can sense emotions. “He’d be a genin already if he didn’t slack off so much.”

She traces invisible Uzumaki swirls on the tabletop. She wants to ask Kakashi if he wanted to be a kid for a bit longer, like Genma, but doesn’t.

Genma reappears after a short while, wearing a bandanna over freshly washed hair and shinobi sandals, all while still rocking the hooded housecoat. She can appreciate living in comfort, and style.

“Ready?” she asks them. “Mission objective is in the Steam District. Travel at ground level is required. Team member Honōka cannot see straight right now, so no parkour.”

Both boys nod solemnly, even if her mock serious instructions have their mouths twitching at the corners. They head out.

She remembers the general spacing of the steps and lets the rail guide her down without looking at her feet. She only misses one step and a quick balance check from Kakashi keeps her from face planting or breaking her neck.

He stays on her left side during the run, nudging her out of the way of people, potholes, and other obstacles. They reach Tsunemori-ya and head around the back.

She thought she might freak out, but (oddly enough) she feels nothing. Maybe she has a thick skin, or maybe one more beating (severe as it was) still was not enough to make a difference in the grand scheme of things.

The back is filthy as usually. A broken pipe somewhere has reduced the ground into a muddy pool of water that smells faintly of sewage. The broken table from the kitchen sticks up in one puddle, and a broken miso jar in another. Everything else has probably sunk. She hopes her belongings are not among the items lost to the muck.

She signals for Kakashi to follow her across the shallow puddles, surprised and impressed when Genma joins them. He _is_ decent.

She points out her room window and Genma scales the wall ahead of them, peeking through the glass and signing ‘all clear’.

“It’s locked—inside latch only. I can’t pick it with anything I got on me.”

She stops next to him and crouches next to the window. Chakra ranges from functionally solid to completely intangible. Tsunade told her all about how those two applications could be used in medical ninjutsu to harm or to heal.

She holds her palm open near the latch and carefully directs her chakra through the glass—very carefully—and _pushes._ The latch unsnaps.

“Woah, woah, woah!” Genma whisper shouts. “You have _got_ to teach me that!”

“Shh,” Kakashi scolds. “Less talking, more retrieving.”

They get to it—not that there’s actually much to retrieve. Just clothes, her armor, the weapons hidden under a floorboard, and her octopus purse.

‘Mission objective retrieved’ she signs. Kakashi snorts, and Genma does a double take at their meager haul. They they boot it out of there. Kakashi holds her hand when they jump out the window so that she doesn’t splat herself on the ground or belly flop in the dirty water.

They get off the property quiet as mice and she pauses to take a look back. There are two men in standard Konoha-nin attire watching the bathhouse.

Kakashi and Genma stop on either side of her.

“What is it, Honōka?” Kakashi asks.

She points out the first man, and then the second.

Genma takes the senbon out of his mouth to whistle.

“Would you look at that, it’s the KKB. You don’t see them in civilian districts often.” Given they’re only supposed to be policing shinobi or keeping the peace when absolutely necessary in civilian disputes. “What do you think is going on? Drug trafficking? Tax evasion? Espionage, maybe—! Ow, Kakashi?!”

“Stop talking, Genma.” Kakashi warns. “Where are we eating?”

She shrugs. “Sushi? I haven’t had makizushi in seven years.”

“Uh, Honōka… Aren’t you like, six?” Genma asks, totally confused.

“Seven, actually.”

“Oh, so you’ve never had it before and want to try it out…gotcha. Sushi’s good with me. Kakashi?”

“Sure. Minato-sensei brought me to this sushi place that serves eggplant-mixed miso soup. Let’s go there.”


	20. Assuming the whole thing isn’t a genjutsu…

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He approaches Minato who is, indeed, modifying military grade flashbangs into firecrackers—with a party horn nipped between his lips in a concentrated effort to make even more noise. Honestly, _Fūinjutsu-shi._

Crime management in Konoha is admittedly pathetic. The KKB exists to keep the peace on the streets, not to investigate what civilians do in the privacy of their own homes. Even in the case of a murder committed by a civilian, a civilian jury will either proclaim the assumed murderer guilty or not. The penalty is usually exile or suicide, and the choice is up to the accused.

For shinobi it’s much different. The daimyō of the Land of Fire has given Konoha’s KKB the full authority to deal with crime within shinobi ranks. They can thank the Second Hokage for that.

Naturally, the crime rate amongst the shinobi population is much lower—or it appears to be. It’s entirely likely that many crimes committed by shinobi are simply better hidden. They are, after all, ninja.

So, while he waits for Tsunade to bat her pretty Senju eyes at the daimyō and secure permission to try Honōka’s father under shinobi law, he’ll be doing his own sleuthing for the case. Unofficially, and with the help of the Uchiha. They’re notoriously ‘strict’ with their own children—but they do draw the line at torture. In blood.

He sends his student off to find her new apartment, hopefully without getting too distracted on the way, and sets off to interview the first witness.

Tsunemori Sachiko; Honōka’s eldest sister. She no longer lives with the family. His plan is to have her provide details about Honōka’s early life that will probably only confirm that the abuse has been going on for longer than the few months he’s known his student.

Ironically, she’s married into the non-shinobi branch of the Akimichi Clan. She even lives in Akimichi-chō, in a modest (by Akimichi standards) family home. He rings the bell and waits.

There’s a pitter-patter of small, heavy, feet, and the sliding door snaps open.

“Hello! Welcome!” a small child greets.

“Kō-chan—please!—wait for Mommy.” The child’s mother catches up, eyes immediately honing in on his hitai-ate. “Oh, my. Welcome, Shinobi-san. Is…is there anything I can help you with today?”

Akimichi Sachiko is a shorter than average woman with wavy honey colored hair and blue eyes. The same blue as Honōka, without the glaringly red pupils and dark border. She’s also very heavily pregnant. He nearly sighs aloud. He’d like to not acquire a reputation for harassing pregnant women today, on top of everything else.

“Indeed, there is. I am here to ask you some questions about your youngest sister, Tsunemori Honōka.”

The woman freezes, then takes a deep, steadying, breath.

“Kōen, head on over to Granny’s house,” she ruffles his wild, choppy hair, so much like his student’s. Wrong color, but so similar. “Straight to Granny’s, you hear?”

“Yes, Kā-chan.”

He runs off, then runs back, smooching his mother’s knees before running off again.

“Please, come in, and please excuse the mess. We were in the middle of an art project.” A project that apparently involved dry soba noodles and marshmallows.

She eases herself down onto a cushion and he takes the one across from her after flicking a squashed marshmallow off it.

“Is…is my imōto…dead?”

“Now, why would you jump to that conclusion?”

She grimaces.

“Mikumo—my younger brother, told me Honōka-chan became a shinobi.” She takes another deep breath, resting her hand on the top of her protruding belly. “My husband tells me that even children are dying in this war.”

“And do you believe battle is the only thing that might cause your little sister harm?”

A shudder. She says nothing for a long moment. Then she shakes her head.

“Would you care to elaborate?”

“Excuse me, Shinobi-san, but you still haven’t answered me. Is my imōto _dead_?”

She has some spine then. Good.

“No.”

She lets out a huge sigh of relief and dabs at her eyes quickly with her sleeve. He patiently waits for her to collect herself.

“O-Otō-sama…can…is…sometimes—sometimes his punishments are… No.” She sits up, spine whip straight, and squares her shoulders. “Tsunemori Keisuke is a terrible, violent, man.”

He was expecting to have to work for such an admission, but he supposes Sachiko has been away from the abuse and in a safe environment for several years now. Time has begun to close the raw edges of her own wounds.

“When did the violence begin?”

“A-always. Before I was born, at least.”

“I see. Would your other siblings share your opinion?”

“I… I don’t know about Ichimaru-nī-san. After…after Honōka-chan was born, he started agreeing with our father’s treatment of Okā-san. Honōka-chan doesn’t _look_ like the rest of us. Father and Ichimaru think Honōka-chan is not Father’s child at all.”

“And do you believe that?”

“Okā-san insists she was not unfaithful. I believe her.”

“Are you familiar with blood-based paternity testing?”

A slow, uncertain nod. She does not gesture ‘so-so’, thankfully. His sanity takes a hit every time Honōka uses the gesture with him.

“There is little doubt that they are indeed parent and child, unfortunately.”

“…”

“Would you say Tsunemori Keisuke was more inclined to violence with Honōka because of this belief?”

“Not…not at first. There were other things, about Honōka-chan, that drew his…attention.”

He finds himself morbidly curious, a character flaw he is admittedly prone to. He really shouldn’t be surprised that he’s not the first person to find his student positively _odd._

“Honōka-chan was very _sensitive_ as a baby. Nobody could pick her up for long, if at all. She cried a lot. But, when she started crying, all we had to do was put her down and leave the room. That was…really weird. Babies are normally the opposite way, right? 

“Okā-san was—probably still is—convinced Honōka-chan only tolerated her when she was hungry. She was deeply depressed by that—we had to find a nanny goat to feed Honōka-chan as Okā-san’s health deteriorated. Postpartum depression, I guess…I didn’t even known such a thing existed until I came here. And, I think what caused it—on top of father believing the baby was not his—was that Okā-san also felt as though Honōka-chan wasn’t hers…

“…Then one day she started walking all on her own. No one taught her—nobody _could_ teach her. She wasn't even a year old, and I swear she was more coordinated than Kō-chan is now. He’s three, in case you were wondering.

“Manaka-chan, our other sister, thought that meant it was time to teach Honōka-chan how to speak. Her first words were apparently to tell Manaka-chan that she knew how already. It frightened Manaka, badly. She told all her friends her little sister was possessed by a fox spirit afterward.”

“And what did your parents think of her accelerated development?” He’s not sure what he would have thought himself. Shinobi-born children tend to have more robust chakra systems, and therefore stronger bodies—but even they won’t spontaneously learn how to walk or talk on their own. _Some_ guidance is still required.

“I don’t think they believed us. They were both very hands off with Honōka-chan, and busy with the bathhouse. It was only us siblings that were around to witness it, and even then we were sometimes too caught up in our own lives to really take notice. Honōka-chan was also uncannily good at getting out of the way when a situation turned…violent.

“…There was a family discussion, around the time I was preparing to marry Nagihiko. I don’t remember what it was about anymore—our father sprang so many ‘family discussions’ on us—I just remember that it was…bad. Honōka-chan got up to slip away, but Manaka noticed and she made her sit down.” Here, she ducks her head, ashamed on her sister’s behalf. “Father noticed. He slammed her head down onto the table and held it there, screaming at her. She didn’t make a sound in complaint and I thought, maybe, he had killed her. There was so much blood, from her nose, I think.

“He told her to apologize—something long and so, _convoluted…!_ It was disgusting. A child couldn’t possibly have hoped to follow and repeat his demand…and he knew it. But, when he pulled her upright by the hair, she repeated the apology word for word… I don’t think he expected that. I think it made him angrier…if anything…and…! 

“I am… I am so ashamed of myself…! Soon after that, I married and left the house and I—I just pretended none of it ever happened! I did nothing for my imōto, said nothing…when all I ever wanted was for someone to notice what was happening to me and say _something!”_

He offers her no sympathy. It is exactly as his student so kindly pointed out to him—turning a blind eye enables criminals and their crimes.

“Shinobi-san…if you see Honōka-chan, can you tell her that her big sister named her son after her? Kōen, like the color of her eyes? That her onē-chan doesn’t think her eyes are ugly or scary, and certainly not oni eyes, please…!”

Orochimaru arrives at the genin apartments in the midst of absolute chaos. He’d be delighted if it weren’t the sort of chaos that only children seem to be capable of.

The shared courtyard has a large celebratory banner tethered to the rails between two buildings—sturdy enough that an adventurous few are attempting to walk across it, unaided by chakra. There’s confetti everywhere and children are running around with sparklers held between their greasy little fingers like senbon, screaming shrilly. _Both_ Eternal Genin, Might Duy and Maruboshi Kosuke, man a large grill and deep wok over an open fire pit made from a metal washing drum and broken bricks. Minato— _Minato_ —is altering flashbangs into firecrackers.

“…” he does not ask himself aloud, “what in Sage’s name is going on here…?”

A random child runs past him, stops, and hands him a stick of roasted corn on the cob. He hates being handed things—but let it be known that Orochimaru does not waste food.

He approaches Minato who is, indeed, modifying military grade flashbangs into firecrackers—with a party horn nipped between his lips in a concentrated effort to make even more noise. Honestly, _Fūinjutsu-shi._

“Minato, what on earth are you doing?”

The Namikaze brat nearly chokes on the noisemaker.

“O-Orochimaru-san, nice evening, yeah?”

Does he dare sigh? 

He casts a cautious eye about. His student should be somewhere in this mess. Assuming the whole thing isn’t a genjutsu… It is _not._

He finds Uchiha Obito and Nohara Rin first, playing hanetsuki badminton. Sarutobi Asuma is holding a pot of ink and a brush—both players evidently inked by his hand. He’s written Tsunade’s epitaph, _The Legendary Sucker_ , on the Uchiha boy’s bare chest. Sarutobi-sensei has clearly been telling tales. And who taught these kids the strip-punishment rule? No class, honestly. And _terrible_ handwriting. 

A few meters away, the older genin have set up a gambling table and are playing koi-koi. He wonders if he should be alarmed by the amount of ryō and personal-belongings-as-collateral changing hands. Should he not also feel obligated to report the (very) illegal gambling? Probably. Will he? Not likely.

And there’s his student—thankfully not at the gambling table. He did not survive his genin, chūnin, and jōnin years just to have to deal with another gambling addict.

Someone has painted large mismatched circles around her eyes and whiskers on her chin, so she likely had a go at playing badminton already. Now, she’s playing uta-garuta and seems to have roped Minato’s student into being her opponent. A boy with dark shades (who is not an Aburame) reads the cards.

The squinting is almost pitiable—if he were given to feeling such things. No, he’s more likely to find the whole charade a positively juvenile waste of time. But his student often does such things with a specific goal in mind.

For instance, Orochimaru doesn’t think he’s ever seen two shinobi play uta-garuta. It’s a game that requires the memorization of one hundred, thirty-one syllable poems, quick reactions, and hand-eye coordination.

Ah—there it is. Hand-eye coordination. His precocious little student is already attempting to retrain herself. Which also explains why Minato’s student is winning by a considerable margin. It would appear most of his cards are now in Honōka’s territory.

The boy in the glasses reads another poem—he has a surprisingly lovely reading voice—and Honōka swipes. She gets the three cards next to the one she was aiming for, and in the wrong territory.

“Penalty.”

Minato’s student places another card in her territory and she rubs her good eye, then blinks rapidly. The boy begins reading again.

The match continues heavily in her opponent’s favor, but even he can see that his student is making micro adjustments after every failed attempt, and using only her non-dominant left hand. He really must ask her about that. Tsunade reported an all clear on that particular injury. 

In the meantime, he’s content to watch the match to the end, nibbling on his roasted corn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, hanetsuki is like badminton played with wooden paddles instead. It's usually a New Year's thing, but we're going with it being more of a general celebration kind of thing. 
> 
> Koi-koi is a gambling game played with really pretty cards. You make sets with them, sort of, to earn points. One of the sets is called Ino-Shika-Cho.
> 
> Uta-garuta is a really cool card game that is intense and scary as hell to try and explain. I watched (a bit of) Chihayafuru and didn't get it. I watched a short documentary on it and still didn't get it. Wiki didn't help me either. There are rules and I've probably described them wrong. But, it's something that Honōka as Tomoe would have definitely enjoyed.
> 
> If there are any Chihayafuru fans that could help me explain it better I'm open to suggestions!


	21. “Dan, don’t be so rude. You’re sitting in her blind spot.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So he’s a grown adult who can make his own choices. Big deal…wait. You’re thirty-one? Is Sensei your age? You guys are older than I thought—”

She finishes losing her match against Kakashi, which is incredibly galling. She actually knows the one hundred poems; both as they used to be and as they are now—subtly changed to fit this world better. This was Kakashi’s first time playing. Does he have to be a prodigy at everything he does?

She sighs. Whether she won or lost, she now understands that she has her work cut out for her. It’s not just that things look differently up close; it’s that her brain is doing some wonky stuff to compensate for the blank image it’s getting from her blind eye.

For instance, if she doesn’t pay attention, her vision centers itself despite not actually being centered. Thus, she bangs into things or reaches for something, only to find it centimeters to the other side. 

On the other hand, if she concentrates on her vision too strongly, the gaping darkness becomes more obvious and distracting. Sometimes she’ll look at something that her right eye can see, but is located where her left and right visual fields formerly overlapped, and the darkness from her left eye will obscure it. 

It’s very frustrating. Her right eye is tired, her brain is tired, and her left eye is oddly not-tired.

Sensei has been watching her with his usual loaded curiosity. She approaches, crossing her hands behind her back. She doesn’t trust herself not to reach out for his sleeve.

“Quite the welcoming party you have thrown yourself.”

She makes a face. It’s not a bad face. She’s just not a party person.

“Rin organized it. Asuma funded it. Kakashi recruited Minato-san and now it’s noisy.”

Her sensei’s dimples appear for a split second and are gone again. He wanted to laugh—laugh in a way that wasn’t mean, was just laughter—but aborted the behavior on reflex. It’s a little sad. Honōka thinks her sensei’s laugh is nice.

He considers something—many things at once. He wants to say something to her but suddenly changes his mind. She gives him her best unimpressed not-glare.

Then he rests a cool hand on the top of head, and she’s not sure if he’s even aware he’s doing it. He must be, though. Orochimaru is intense and swings between emotions so fast that she sometimes wonders if it’s a sign of genius or one of mental instability, or maybe even both. He’s also very deliberate in every action and scrutinizing of every reaction he elicits in those around him. 

She determines he’s allowing her the physical connection. Or possibly distracting her from puzzling out his exact thoughts. He snorts when she tentatively turns the not-glare on him again.

“Now is not the time, Honōka-kun.”

She shrugs. She tried. He’ll probably tell her later. He also might not. She settles for dragging him to the koi-koi tables.

“Honōka-kun, it is unwise to gamble with real money.”

“It’s okay—I _always_ win.”

Exasperated dread.

While Tsunade did clear her for discharge, she hasn’t been cleared for missions or training. Something about recently ruptured eyes being easier to rupture again. She’ll take her word for it.

Academy classes haven’t let out for summer break yet, so her friends are unavailable for most of the day, and Sensei is busy with something—he won’t say what. Kakashi and Minato left on a B-rank mission and that kind of irks her.

She knows Kakashi has been on B-ranks before, it’s just whenever she tags along Minato is determined to avoid them at all costs. He doesn’t think she’s ready, even though she and Kakashi are more or less equals with different skill sets. (Part of her wants to say they ‘were’ equals.)

She sits in on one of Tsunade’s medical ninjutsu seminars. The other attendees give her vaguely skeptical looks, but she’s sitting quietly with a notebook and pen ready, and Tsunade’s seminars are free to attend. There’s also no such thing as parental guidance required in this world.

Tsunade acknowledges her with a there-then-gone nod and begins.

The lecture is dense in terminology that she’s not familiar with. She expected that, though. Tomoe learned some biology in middle school, but evidently not enough to follow along. Honōka writes down every word and phrase she doesn’t understand. She can ask Tsunade or her sensei for more detailed explanations later.

She absorbs what she can, and then the seminar is over. The attendees clear out and she organizes her notes. A calloused hand reaches across her paper, a pale finger stopping on an underlined word.

She doesn’t jump. It’s the washed-out-colors man sitting on her left. His presence is quiet and unassuming, but not silent. She _didn’t_ forget he was there. His feelings are just—they’re just kind of fuzzy. They fade into the background.

“This refers to the mitochondria, and this refers to cellular division accelerated by stimulating the process with chakra.” His voice is low, tempered. He speaks like he feels, faded.

She jots down his helpful parallels. He points to her next underlined word and explains that one too. Soon, they’re the only two people left in the lecture hall—and they’re only halfway through her notes.

Tsunade returns. She feels a bit…giddy.

“Ah, Tsunade, you’re always thinking one step ahead of me.”

Tsunade giggles, and Honōka suddenly wants to leave the room. But Tsunade is carrying a book. A thick leather tome, actually, but still a book. She can put up with a little of…whatever this is.

Then she abruptly snaps out of it, brows furling.

“Dan, don’t be so rude. You’re sitting in her blind spot.”

Dan, the washed-out-colors man, feels properly chagrined and quickly gets up to take the seat on her other side. He awkwardly pushes his bluish silver hair behind his ears.

“My apologies. I didn’t realize.”

“…” she’s confused. “It’s fine? You didn’t know and I didn’t say.”

“Still, Dan should have realized he was making you uncomfortable.”

She tilts her head at Tsunade.

“He wasn’t though?”

Tsunade and Dan share a look. Is there some shinobi etiquette she’s unaware of? Something she’s being… _blind_ to? Her lip spasms.

“Alright, tell me if I’m being presumptuous, kid. Your left field of vision is operating at zero percent. You see nothing on that side at all. And, you’re not getting all twitchy when someone hunkers down in your blind spot?”

She frowns. “Why would I be twitchy? It’s the same if someone were sitting behind me?”

Tsunade palms her temple.

“Kid, most shinobi don’t like that either. Especially if they’ve been through half the shit you’ve been through.”

She shrugs. “Most shinobi don’t experience things the way I do. Dan-san feels safe.”

Dan rumbles out a short laugh and Tsunade blushes.

“Orochimaru said you’re constantly using you sensor ability…you never take a break? Turn it off for a bit?”

“No.”

“Have you tried?”

“Nope.”

“Don’t you think you should?”

“…”

“Honōka?”

“Maybe?”

Dan clears his throat, just a touch awkward. He’s suddenly wanting to leave for something that feels important to him. It pierces through the fuzzy-ness with surprising clarity.

“Honōka-kun, was it?” Dan asks.

“Tsunemori Honōka-desu.” She says. “Thank you for helping me with my notes, Dan-san.”

He laughs, quietly. “It’s Katō Dan, and it was no trouble, Honōka-kun. I must be off now…good seeing you, Tsunade-san.”

He swiftly exits, and Tsunade stares after him for a long moment with near tangible longing.

“Tsunade-san, do you like Dan-san?”

She sputters.

“Why w-would you ask such a-a thing?!”

She gives Tsunade _the look_.

“Right… Was I that obvious?”

“Eh, Dan-san seems kind of…fuzzy. Like, he’s here, but not? And the moment it turned three o’clock he suddenly had to go somewhere, _super_ urgently.”

Tsunade feels a pang of genuine sadness for Dan.

“His sister died last year. He looks after his niece now, supports her all by himself.”

“…” she considers the complicated feelings coming from Tsunade. “So, you like him, and you’re sympathetic to the hardship he’s going through. You _know_ what he’s going through, better than most, and you want to be there for him.”

Tsunade opens and closes her mouth—oscillating between wanting to be righteously indignant at Honōka for prying into her personal feelings and just being totally surprised that she got it in one.

“What’s stopping you?” Honōka asks.

Tsunade collapse into a chair, heavily.

“I think I need a drink…” she mutters.

Honōka waits. Tsunade wants to talk to her—it’s just she looks like a seven-year-old girl. Is a seven-year-old girl. Not exactly top notch confidant material.

“I’m five years older than Dan.”

She snorts. The sound, _the noise_ , almost startles Honōka herself.

“So what? My grandfather was ten years younger than my grandmother. He didn’t love her any less for it.”

Shocked surprise from Tsunade. She wasn’t expecting Honōka to challenge her with a bit of personal history.

“You don’t think it’s weird…or that I’m robbing the cradle?”

“How old is Dan-san?”

“…twenty-six.”

“So he’s a grown adult who can make his own choices. Big deal…wait. You’re thirty-one? Is Sensei your age? You guys are older than I thought—”

Tsunade bonks her on the head, gently.

“I am not old! I’m thirty until August second, you hear me, brat?!”


	22. “You have to be playing the same game to be winning.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Tsunade-san, Obito bit me. Do I need a rabies shot?”
> 
> Obito shoots her a dirty look and Tsunade tsks. Without missing a beat, she sprays the red and just barely broken skin with a stingy disinfectant.

Tsunade gives her a couple book on medical ninjutsu—on the strict basis that they’re for reading only. Medical ninjutsu can be dangerous, so no ‘experimenting’ on herself or, gods forbid, her friends.

Her sensei is apparently decently good at it, so if she really wants to learn Tsunade tells her she should bother him for lessons. Tsunade would help, but she’s currently teaching about twenty dunderheads how to do it.

Like usual, he’s busy, so she hangs out with her friends at the empty plot next to Uchiha-ku.

She’s teaching them tuishō—pushing hands. Or, she’s teaching Rin tuishō and Obito and Guy are butchering it.

“You’re not rooting or yielding, Obito—you’re just trying to shove Guy around.”

“I’m winning, aren’t I?”

“You have to be playing the same game to be winning.”

Obito scowls at her. She breaks away from Rin and signs for her to continue on her own. Rin continues as though nothing has changed with grace and poise. Rin _gets_ it.

“Guy, yield.”

Guy steps away from Obito mid push and Obito careens past him and nearly face plants in the trodden grass. 

She steps in and stops him with an open palm over his stomach, guiding him upright. He goes red in the face. He’s embarrassed, and when he’s embarrassed he gets mad—and he’s very easily embarrassed, so usually very angry. It’s a headache inducing cycle.

She roots herself to the spot and points to her extended right foot. “Take a balanced stance and put your right foot next to mine.”

“This is so stupid…”

She waits. He puts his foot next to hers.

“Go ahead. Shove me.”

“Wha?”

“Come on, shove me like you were shoving Guy.”

“But, Honōka…aren’t you supposed to be taking it easy? What if your eye— _breaks—_ again?”

He’s genuinely concerned, but she’s getting tired of people being overly cautious about it. She crosses her eyes and Obito cringes. For a dōjutsu bearing clan, the Uchiha are awfully squeamish about everything eye related. 

“Okay, jeez…! Just stop crossing your eyes already. They’ll get stuck that way, you know?”

She raises an eyebrow at him.

He shoves her half-heartedly, with one hand only. She doesn’t move; she doesn’t even bother redirecting him. He retreats.

“Come on, Obito. Actually try.”

He bites his lip. He really doesn’t want to—afraid that he’ll hurt her/afraid that he won't. He's weird sometimes.

“I’m not going to keel over from a little shove.”

He shoves harder this time, and she redirects him, easily pushing him left and right. He’s not rooted or yielding to her force and quickly loses his footing, stumbling away.

Frustration reddens his face.

“This is so _stupid_ —shinobi don’t even fight like this!”

“Obito, tuishō isn’t about fighting, it’s about economy of movement and balance.” Rin chides.

“Rin is right,” Guy agrees. “I’m learning tuishō to be more aware of my body and its inner balance.”

It doesn’t matter what they say to Obito. He’s convinced it’s pointless and would rather force his way through a fight. And maybe it would work—the first couple times. Eventually, though, someone with more finesse would come along and tear his sloppy form apart.

She takes a kunai from her arm guard and tosses it. Everyone cringes, but it digs harmlessly into the ground, handle up.

“Honōka-chan—”

“Come at me with that then.”

Varying levels of concern from her three friends. Then they’re all talking at once.

“Honōka, my esteemed rival—don’t you think you’re being a bit… _too_ youthful?”

“Honōka-chan, I think you’re taking this too far. If Obito doesn’t want to learn tuishō or tai chi, that’s totally up to him.”

“…”

“…”

She won’t make eye contact and Obito is too stubborn to back down, so they both stare at the kunai sticking out of the ground—the point of conflict.

“I don’t care if he doesn’t want to learn it—but it is not stupid. It’s not a performative art, either. It’s taijutsu. And I’ll prove it to anyone who says otherwise.”

Rin and Guy wince. Partly because they’re still not _totally_ used to her rougher side, and also because they feel a little guilty for not properly considering it a fighting technique.

She flicks her wrist and the kunai zips back to her open palm. She secrets it back into her sleeve the moment the pommel touches her skin. It took her a lot of practice and a lot of bandages to learn it, and even more to relearn it.

“Let’s spar. If I win, you learn tai chi.”

Obito crosses his arms.

“And if I win?”

“You won’t.”

Steam practically comes out of his ears. He’s red right down to his neck.

“Honōka, rival, buddy, my pal!” Guy tries. Sometimes he just can’t match his father’s candor. “I’m not sure if you’re being fair here—your teacher is a Sannin and Obito is still just an Academy student.”

“Yeah, and Sensei hasn’t taught me _anything_ yet.” Yes, she’s complaining.

Obito cracks his knuckles. “If I win, you have to call me Obito-sama.”

She shrugs. “You won’t.”

That makes him barking mad and he finally comes at her with the intention to fight her, seriously. The first punch he throws scrapes by her left ear. She snaps her left arm up and locks their wrists together. 

She cheats. With just a little chakra, they’re stuck together like powerful magnets; her chakra and Obito’s chakra rotate in opposite directions, so it makes sense that matching his rotation from the opposite direction would thoroughly lock them together. Obito can’t pull away.

He throws a left hook and she guides it away with her right, then locks those hands in place as well. Her right hand has been panging near constantly since supposedly being healed—but it doesn’t hurt right now.

“What the heck! I can’t…! I can’t move?!”

He pulls and strains, and she stays exactly where she is. He pushes and she yields, releasing and throwing him nearly five meters away.

Obito rolls and finds his feet, charging head first at her—like a raging bull. She sidesteps and catches his arm with one hand, his shoulder with the other. She flips him on his back and kneels on his chest.

“Yield.”

His cheeks hollow and he spits in her eyes. Her good eye takes the brunt. She rears back, rubbing her eyes furiously. It stings—! He used the soapy quality of their bubble blowing jutsu to temporarily blind her.

He knees her in the gut and she does down.

“You’re down!” he crows, feeling assured of his victory.

She can’t see him well anymore, but she can feel him. And he was down _first._

She shoves against the ground with her shoulder and pinwheels her legs, kicking his feet out from under him. He hits the ground and she rolls on top of him. She aims for his nose and misses, and the ground yields to her fist. Probably a good thing it didn’t land.

He rolls them again and they go kicking and screaming across the grass. He bites her at one point and she knees him in the groin at another. Eventually they split apart and find their feet again before resuming the all-out brawl.

She can barely see through the dry sting, but she more or less knows where he is. He projects his feelings even more during a fight—it makes him easier to ‘see’. She aims for every weak point, every opening in his stance. He goes down, and gets up, and makes sure to fit in as many licks as he can when he does. She doesn’t know how many times she’s flipped him already.

“Guys! Please stop! Someone’s going to get seriously hurt!”

“This spar is most un-youthful!”

She’s got Obito in a double armbar, squashing his shoulders together with her thighs and calf muscles. He won’t stop struggling, so she nips just a little bit harder.

_POP!_

She freezes. Obito _howls._

Honōka goes lax and Guy hauls her off Obito. Rin kneels at his side, trying to coach him into staying still rather than squirming on the ground like a broken firework.

“What the hell is going on here?!” a gruff voice demands.

She blinks. Everything is still blurry.

“I dislocated his shoulder.”

The man snorts. “I’d say you did more than that. Oi, you’re Granny Fūbuki’s boy, Obito, right? Come on, up. Walk it off. You’ll make it to the hospital on your own two feet or not at all.”

Obito groans but manages to get up with Rin’s help.

“And what’d he do to you? Are your eyes supposed to be red like that?”

She flinches. Rin and Guy tense. That particular sentence is taboo. She forces herself to swallow and answers.

“He spat in my eyes.”

The (presumably) Uchiha man turns the full brunt of his disgust on Obito.

“Kid—I hate to say it, but you deserved everything you got. You do that to another kunoichi in a couple years and you’ll be lucky to walk away with your balls intact.”

No one laughs. They know he’s being perfectly serious.

“Right, guess I’ll be escorting you lot to the hospital.” He addresses Rin and Guy next. “You two can be my witnesses.”

They move and Honōka hurries to keep up, and runs dead center into the stool sized stump. She goes head over heels and somehow manages to not land on her face.

“Damn, kid. You got a concussion or something?”

“Ah,” Rin jumps in. “Obito kind of, spat, in her only good eye? With a bubble…blowing jutsu?”

“Kid—Obito—what the fuck? Fūbuki-obā-sama is gonna string you up by your toes when she finds out. And trust me, _she will find out_.”

Obito groans, less about the pain he’s currently in and more about the metaphorical shit he’s going to be in later.

Rin and Guy double back to take her by either hand. She hopes Tsunade is busy.

Tsunade is not busy. She even personally treats Obito’s dislocated shoulder and his other bumps and bruises with the Mystical Palm Technique. She flushes Honōka’s eyes with water and soothing eye drops that are absolutely the most amazing she’s ever used.

All while projecting the most pungent sense of angry disappointment Honōka’s ever had the pleasure of experiencing.

“I won,” Obito declares. Honōka forgets about Tsunade for a minute.

“No, you didn’t!” she hisses. “I beat the crap out of you! I dislocated your shoulder! You spat in my eyes and nearly blinded me, and I still kicked the shit out of you! I am _not_ calling you Obito-sama, you little shit!”

“Hey! I’m taller than you! You’re the…the little shit!”

Rin and Guy facepalm.

“I won, you lost—you’re learning tai chi whether you like it or not. You suck at fighting. All you’ve got are good reflexes…and quick thinking!”

“Just admit it, Honōka! I’m a way better fighter than you are! I’m a natural!”

“You’re sloppy! You don’t even try to avoid taking hits—”

“Taking hits won’t matter once I get my Sharingan—I’ll see them coming from a mile away!”

“Sharingan, Sharingan—! You’ll get yourself killed before you can even awaken it!”

The room goes silent. Those aren’t words you toss around lightly.

Tsunade knocks their head together—hard enough to hurt, but not enough to actually cause any further harm. She would know.

“Got that out of your systems?”

“No,” she admits. Tsunade shoots her a startled look.

“Kid, I thought you were supposed to be ultra calm and collected, or something. The aloof genius type?”

Rin and Guy share a look. That’s Kakashi, not Honōka. Obito grins.

“That’s what she wants you to think, lady—but let me tell you; I am the master of pushing Honōka’s buttons!”

Guy groans and Rin facepalms, again. “…that’s not something to be proud of…”

She rolls her sleeve up and over her arm guard. She makes a mental note to wear her mesh armor next time she fights Obito.

“Tsunade-san, Obito bit me. Do I need a rabies shot?”

Obito shoots her a dirty look and Tsunade tsks. Without missing a beat, she sprays the red and just barely broken skin with a stingy disinfectant.

“Sorry kid, you’re up to date on all your immunizations.”

She pouts.


	23. nothing to apologize for

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Honōka-kun, are you keeping tabs on your sensei?”
> 
> He just knows she’s about to do it.
> 
> ‘So-so.’

“Your student and her friends are batshit.”

He raises an eyebrow at his former teammate. She doesn’t appear to be drunk. He does smell sake, though.

“What did they do this time? Did they by chance catch Uchiha-ku on fire again? Bust a drug trafficking operation? Throw a wildly out-of-control party?”

“What, no—they throw parties?”

“Indeed. You would fit right in. I do not recommend challenging Honōka-kun at the gambling table. She _always_ wins.”

“Apparently she _always_ wins at fist fights too.”

“Fist fights?” he narrows his eyes. “That is news to me.” He doesn’t ask after his student’s condition—she obviously won, Tsunade would be leading this conversation with any significant injuries she may have incurred, had they occurred.

“She kicked the shit out of Uchiha Obito—apparently because he was ‘shit at fighting’. She was still spitting mad when I treated their minor wounds. Dislocated shoulder for the Uchiha brat—and some kind of soapy residue in Honōka’s eyes. The Uchiha brat fights dirty.”

He chuckles, oh to be brought low by one’s own creations. He knows the feeling.

“Why are you telling me this, Tsunade? This is hardly the most problematic behavior you have seen from young shinobi.”

“She dislocated the boy’s shoulder and cracked several of his ribs. From an _armbar._ She’s strong, and she’ll beat her friends half to death to get it through their heads that they are not—and that they’ll get themselves killed in a real fight. Does that sound ‘calm and collected’ to you?”

He frowns. He hates it when she throws his words back at him.

“I hate to tell you, but your kid’s got a temper and a few screws lose. Uchiha Obito's not much better—he called it ‘pushing Honōka’s buttons’, like it’s a game. The other two—Nohara Rin and Might Guy? Jury’s still out on them. They at least looked a _little_ ashamed.

“But back to the ‘pushing Honōka’s buttons’ part. He temporarily blinded her and she kept fighting—acted like it didn’t even faze her. He goaded her into fighting at a disadvantage, Orochimaru, and she _kept. On. Fighting._ If someone does that to her on the battlefield, she’ll die.”

“Or, she will win.”

“Is that a chance you’re willing to take?”

He leans against the back wall in Tsunade’s office. They’re supposed to be discussing his student’s piece-of-shit father, not the shenanigans his precious student gets up to when his back is turned.

“Honōka-kun has a fragile, unassuming, appearance. An appearance she carefully tweaks from person to person. She uses it to protect herself, to disguise herself. And, she knows what she is underneath it—knows how she affects people.” A self-awareness he did not have at her age, unfortunately.

Tsunade looks troubled by his words. She hasn’t quite reached the biting her nails stage, but she’s close.

“And I suppose you’ve seen what’s underneath? She’s shown you, at least?”

He lets out a short bark of laughter.

“Heavens no—not even a glimpse!”

That does not assuage Tsunade’s nerves in the least. If anything, she looks vaguely alarmed.

“I am trusting my gut instinct here, as Jiraiya would say, and it is telling me my student has claws that she likes to sharpen in plain sight. Someday, we’ll both look back and wonder how we missed it.”

He tracks down his student after his conversation with Tsunade concludes, or she tracks him down. She appears in a very casual shunshin at his side. 

“Did Tsunade-san tell on me?”

He attempts to feel stern. By the quirk of Honōka’s lips, he guesses his general amusement with the entire situation is what she actually picks up.

“Why? Is there something that should be told on?” he feints. It works.

She frowns, probably wondering if he really is just in a good mood and hasn’t yet been informed of her latest misbehavior.

“I think she did. You started looking for me after you left the hospital.”

Now it’s his turn to frown. That’s rather…unexpected.

“Honōka-kun, are you keeping tabs on your sensei?”

He just knows she’s about to do it.

‘So-so.’

He sighs.

“Please, do explain?”

“I think, maybe, most shinobi have some degree of chakra sensitivity?”

“This is true.”

“So everyone’s a sensor—just not in the same way that I am.”

“An argument that can indeed be made.”

“So, when you want to find me, specifically me, your chakra does this weird thing.”

He stops her. “My chakra or my emotions?” because he’s fairly certain they’ve established that her sensor ability is a chakra enhanced emotion detector. Distance dampens it. Obstacles hinder it. The person being within eyesight or possibly hearing distance significantly enhances it.

“Hm. Both. You’re looking for me, wanting to find me, so your chakra kind of fans out, maybe? And when it’s close enough to mine they brush and I get this feeling like, ‘oh, Sensei’s looking for me’.”

He tries to break that down in his head. Honōka looks at him expectantly. He musters his patience.

“Issue number one: I did not flare my chakra at all—that is a technique to deliberately attract the attention of, ideally, friendly sensor-nin. In fact, I very deliberately suppress my chakra signature down to the absolute minimum at all times. I am typically a very difficult presence for even skilled sensor types to track.

“Issue number two: You are proposing that my emotional desire to find you was urgent enough that it crossed a considerably large distance to interact with your sensory-field—which, might I remind you, is considered to be roughly two hundred meters barring particularly intense emotions like killing intent and blood lust. My interest in finding you was meandering somewhere in a long list of things that needed to happen in the next four hours, at best.”

“Addressing issue number one.” Honōka begins. She skips to keep up with his walking pace. “Chakra is an energy that flows through the body. It also exists in most everything, living and non-living. However, chakra from an individual person is unique. Clan members are noticeably more similar, but still unique. This is how skilled sensor-nin are able to differentiate between friend and foe.”

“And where did you learn that?”

She shoots him a look—one that she learned from him!—for interrupting.

“Minato let me borrow a book Jiraiya-san gave to him, which he technically borrowed but didn’t return to Hokage-sama, who inherited said book from the Second Hokage.”

Typical Jiraiya. He waves for her to continue.

“Right, still issue number one.” She finds her train of thought again. “So, chakra is unique to the individual. And, a sensor-nin has a sensory-field, like you already mentioned. Since everyone is technically a sensor, everyone has a sensory-field. What happened wasn’t our chakra interacting, but rather my sensory-field and your sensory-field overlapping.”

“Hypothetically?”

“Hypothetically.”

“And issue number two?”

“Right, issue number two… Tsunade asked me why I don’t ever turn off my sensor ability. I thought about it, and I think I’m already constantly suppressing it down to its lowest possible setting. Intense emotions still get through. When I dislocated Obito’s shoulder, I felt his pain and it broke me out of the fit I was in. The other exception is people I’m familiar with. If I look for my friends, it doesn’t seem to matter where they are—granted, I haven’t tried with anybody outside of Konoha. Yet.”

Yet, indeed. He boxes up the casual mention of the mere possibility that her current ability is the _lowest possible setting_ and focuses on more important things.

“This ‘fit’ you were in. You caused your friend pain and you felt it as though it were your own? Could the anger you felt while fighting him have been his anger as well? Did he not stop feeling angry when the pain of his injury was too great to surmount?”

In which case, Orochimaru does have a problem. It’s one thing if his student has a slight berserker aspect, and another thing if her empathy can actively work against her while in combat with an enemy nin.

“No. Obito was still barking mad after I dislocated his arm. He was just in too much pain to do anything about it. That’s the thing about Obito—he’s a ball of rage most of the time. Set him off good and he’ll stay mad for days. Most the time I just tune it out, but he called my taijutsu discipline stupid, _twice_.”

“So, the anger you felt was justifiably your own—but the pain you felt was definitely your friend’s.”

She nods. “I was angry—but Obito’s my best friend—er, _one_ of my best friends. I didn’t mean to hurt him like that.”

Unbidden, he thinks of Jiraiya and the Ame orphans. Jiraiya was hurt by his callous suggestion back then.

“Did you apologize?”

He takes a moment to run diagnostics on his hearing, but no—Honōka did just ask him that. This must be how Minato and his student feel when she anticipates not only what they’re feeling, but what they’re thinking as well. 

“You feel guilty-sad.” She explains, as if that’s the polite thing to do after very nearly giving someone a dissociative episode. “Did you fight with a friend and hurt them like I did?”

“…”

She waits for him to gather himself. He also briefly considers just ignoring her and hoping she forgets she even asked. Not likely. 

“It was not a fight, but I hurt him nonetheless.”

“You didn’t apologize?”

“At the time, I thought I had nothing to apologize for.”

“And now you feel guilty-sad?”

He sighs. “Please do not combine words to describe emotional nuances…the feeling you are trying to describe, that I am feeling right now…is called remorse.”

There, he said it; he said it without spontaneously combusting or throwing up in his mouth. Eugh.

His student looks surprised—and he’s preparing to scold her for looking so damned surprised that her teacher feels remorse like a normal, _healthy,_ person.

“Sensei, I think that’s the first time I’ve ever felt anyone feel remorse before.”

He’s about to rebuke her—surely someone in her life must have felt remorseful at some point—but then he remembers what her family is like and just a little killing intent leaks out.

“Are you certain I mustn’t murder your father?”

“Sensei— _no_.”


	24. everything else

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She laughs and continues leading them to the Jōnin Standby Station. If they really didn’t want to know her plan, they’d be gone already.

Minato and Kakashi return from their B-rank. She ambushes them at the gate by jumping on Minato’s back. He nearly bursts out of his skin and luckily does not stab her for it. He thought about it—he definitely thought about it.

“Honōka,” Kakashi scolds, “you can't do that to _any_ shinobi returning from a high stress mission.”

She frowns at Kakashi from her place hanging off Minato’s neck.

“Minato-san feels pretty serene to me. Not a ripple on the pond.” She knocks on his head, gently. He feels almost blank, in fact.

“Probably because you splashed all the water out with your surprise attack.”

Minato clears his throat. His heart is actually beating really fast—she can feel it through his back.

“In all seriousness, Honōka-chan, probably don’t do that again? Or, at least don’t conceal your chakra when you do?” A deep, shuttering breath. Some of his color returns. “I honestly had no idea it was you…where’d you even come from…?”

“Oh, it worked then?”

Kakashi and Minato share a wary look. _What worked?_ They silently worry.

“Aren’t you supposed to be resting?” Kakashi distracts.

“Me and Obito got into a _spat_ , you could say, and an Uchiha-oji-san made us go to the hospital. Tsunade-san treated us and gave me the go ahead to start training again, ‘lest you make beating your friends to a pulp a hobby’.”

Kakashi’s eye twitches.

“What did Obito _do_?”

“He called my taijutsu style stupid. _Twice_.”

Kakashi thinks about it, and nods.

“Understandable.”

“Wait, wait. Back up. What ‘worked’?” Minato asks. He gestures to Kakashi and they both start walking. Probably to the Academy and the Administration Building. Honōka adjusts her grip and continues hanging off Minato.

“Me and Sensei had a discussion about sensor-nin. Nidaime-sama’s book featured in it. Thank you for letting me borrow it, Minato-san.”

He hums his acknowledgment. Kakashi gives her a look to get on with it.

“Every sensor-nin has a sensory-field which determines how far they can sense. When the sensory-fields of two sensor-nin interact they become aware of each other. To avoid this, there are two options: suppress and conceal your chakra to a degree that the other sensor-nin cannot detect… Or expand your own sensory-field beyond the enemy nin’s.”

Kakashi frowns, working that one over in his head. Minato gets it, or doesn’t get it, faster.

“I’m sorry, I don’t get it. If I’m inside your sensory-field, I’m interacting with it, therefore I should still feel you presence.”

“You do—all around you. Therefore, there is no point of reference.”

“…”

“Oh! _Oh!_ Honōka-chan, that’s genius!”

Kakashi walks backwards, looking rather critical of his sensei’s outburst.

“If your sensory-field is outside mine, on all sides, there is no way for me to determine which direction you’re actually in. I can’t determine the center point of your sensory-field or where you would be when there are no bisections between the two fields. On top of that, because it feels like chakra coming from all directions, I’m more likely to mistake it for ambient chakra. Kakashi, it's like being nose-blind!”

Understanding lights his eyes, but then he’s frowning again.

“I get the sensory-field thing. But doesn’t that just mean that other sensor-nin are not aware that there’s a stronger sensor-nin in the area? They’ll still be able to detect Honōka’s chakra signature if she’s using chakra—and it must take a ton of chakra to make a sensory-field bigger than anyone else’s.”

“Actually, expanding a sensory-field is less about using more chakra and more about having greater concentration. So, Honōka-chan can probably expand her sensory-field quite far—especially while she’s motionless like she is now.” Minato chuckles, pointing his thumb back at her. “As far as her chakra signature goes…what does it feel like to you, Kakashi?”

She’s not surprised that Minato’s been teaching Kakashi some basic sensor abilities or improving his chakra awareness in general. It’s very important in live battle situations. However, she’s confident this is something Kakashi has no chance of emulation, or even understanding.

“…How?”

Minato grins, excited. She thought he would be—jealous, maybe.

“Honōka-chan seems to have mastered the Second Hokage’s existence elimination technique.”

If anything, he feels…happy for her. It’s a nice feeling.

“…But, how does it work? You can’t just make yourself feel like nothing. Usually, there’s a lacuna—a void—something that feels just slightly not right…Honōka just feels like everything else.”

“Everything else, huh? That’s a good observation, Kakashi. And that’s exactly what the Second Hokage’s technique is built upon. You see, there’s an ambient frequency all around us; a hum, if you would. It’s ever present, so you naturally tune it out, or it would likely drive you crazy! Honōka-chan is matching her signature to that frequency, and unless you can focus on _everything else_ , at the same time, you won’t be able to discern Honōka-chan’s presence from the rest.”

Kakashi considers.

“Why isn’t it driving Honōka crazy?”

“I find it relaxing. It’s louder than everybody else.”

“And there’s the famous drawback. Nobody can sense Honōka-chan while she’s using this technique, but neither can she sense anybody else.”

She smirks. She said it was louder—not deafening.

“Tora-sensei is manning the mission desk, and Hokage-sama is not in his office.”

“…” Kakashi slowly examines her, like she might suddenly bite or starting raving like a lunatic. “Minato-sensei, can that hum thing really drive you crazy?”

“Rude! Just you wait. Tora-sensei’s going to tell you Hokage-sama is out or some tripe. And then we’re going to the Jōnin Standby Station to wake him up.”

Kakashi and Minato feel positively mutinous. They’re probably plotting how to get rid of her before she gets them all on the Hokage’s post-nap bad side.

“Tora-sensei never mans the mission desk.” Kakashi argues, deciding to rationalize the situation away instead.

“Are you questioning a future S-rank sensor-nin?”

“S-rank?” Kakashi snorts. “Says who?”

“Orochimaru-sensei.”

She feels Minato gulp.

“You’re high on ‘ambient frequency,’”

“And you’re a sore loser.”

They glare at each other.

“Um, guys? Please don’t fight. I’m in a kind of delicate position if either of you—” he means Honōka, “—decide to draw weapons.”

Kakashi backs down, if only to placate Minato’s wobbly nerves.

They reach the Administration Building and enter the mission desk room. Tora-sensei balances on two legs of his desk chair, looking utterly bored.

Kakashi turns in the mission report scroll while radiating irritation at Honōka for being right.

“Ano,” Minato begins, already uncertain. “We have a verbal report for Sandaime-sama as well. Is he in?”

“Is it urgent?”

“Well, yes, but also no?”

Tora-sensei fixes Minato with an impatient stare. He’s a chūnin, one rank below Minato, but also a full decade older. 

“Is it or is it not urgent?”

“No?”

“Come back later. Sandaime-sama is busy with something else.”

A very bland excuse. Honōka was hoping for something with more ‘umph’ to it. But Tora-sensei is Tora-sensei.

She drops down from Minato’s back.

“Let’s go to the Jōnin Standby Station. I have a plan.”

Tora-sensei’s eyes bug out upon seeing her.

“No!”

Kakashi and Minato jump.

“No more plans! I’m sick of you and your little friends’ bullshit plans—and no plans allowed in the Jōnin Standby Station—at all!”

She purses her lips. Well, that was certainly…dramatic. She grabs Minato’s sleeve and Kakashi’s arm warmer and pulls them along after her.

“Tora-sensei is just a little upset that I taught Obito the bubble blowing jutsu and how ghost wire traps work. But don’t worry, he’s not actually _that_ upset.”

Tora-sensei does not leave the mission desk room, but his yelling does follow them down the hall. He yells after Minato, imploring him to be the Yellow Flash Konoha needs and to not fall for the ‘little delinquent’s dimples’. Rude. She wishes she had dimples like Sensei’s.

By now, Kakashi and Minato are sweating bullets, real and metaphorical.

“Um…Honōka-chan, I don’t think Tora-san was ‘just a little upset’…maybe a little—”

“Hysterical?” Kakashi offers.

“I was going to say agitated, but hysterical works too.”

She laughs and continues leading them to the Jōnin Standby Station. If they really didn’t want to know her plan, they’d be gone already.

“Dimples,” Kakashi scoffs.

“They are kind of hard to say no to, aren’t they?” Minato whispers.

She lets them into the station and marches up to the stove where there’s a conveniently empty pot and sturdy metal ladle.

“Honōka-chan, don’t—”

She bangs them together with everything she has. The ladle breaks after the third strike. A napping jōnin on a heavily patched up couch flies off and sticks to the ceiling like a badly startled cat. And, absolutely _simmering_ chakra floods the station from the direction of the bunk rooms.

Kakashi actually hides behind Minato.

“Now you’ve done it, Honōka! Honōka?!”

She’s gone with a lingering giggle, leaving the three of them to deal with the wrath of Sarutobi Hiruzen post-nap.


	25. It’s a cute nose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Minato and his student actually have something in mind already. It’s called payback.”
> 
> She frowns. Payback? How are they supposed to do that if they can’t sneak up on her or find her when she doesn’t want to be found?
> 
> “I would start running if I were you, Honōka-kun.”

The moment Sensei decides she’s on his ‘priority list’ she drops what she’s doing and flickers to his side, leaving a bewildered Genma to finish assembling his bentō.

She does not mask her chakra by matching it to the droning hum of everything else around her. Sensei already warned her he would not hesitate to gut her if she startled him.

She appears at his side and he pats her on the head. She makes a token effort to resist.

“This, I could get used to. No more wasting time tracking you down Sage knows where, doing Sage knows _what_.”

Sensei is in an inexplicably _good_ mood. Honōka muddles through the flavor of it.

She’s not quite sure why, but long-term goals and the way people feel about them are harder for her to decipher, leaving her with only a general feeling to puzzle over. What she knows is that Sensei is planning something, and it’s putting him in a _really_ good mood.

She wonders if she should be concerned.

“I have booked out the Third Training Ground from nine hundred to fifteen hundred every weekday from now until September.”

She frowns. There go most of her plans with Rin and Obito. Oh well. They can make new ones.

“More self-study, Sensei?”

“Oh, no; Minato and his student will be helping us out with some _special_ training.”

“Us?” and _special_ training? 

“Indeed. I have somewhat cleared my schedule.”

Oh! There was nothing for her to be concerned about at all! This is great news—the best news she’s had in _forever._

Her sensei chuckles at her excited little outburst. She only jumped around a bit.

“I wouldn't get too excited just yet, Honōka-kun. Minato and his student tell me you played a prank on them in rather poor taste the other day. Getting them to agree might require some convincing.”

“I’ll apologize to them. It really wasn’t that bad, but I’ll apologize to them.”

There’s an overly gleeful tilt to Sensei’s smirk, and she has a sinking feeling she’s missing something.

“Minato and his student actually have something in mind already. It's called payback.”

She frowns. Payback? How are they supposed to do that if they can’t sneak up on her or find her when she doesn’t want to be found?

“I would start running if I were you, Honōka-kun.”

She doesn’t get it. He sounds so sure Minato and Kakashi are planning some kind of punishment for her, but they couldn’t possibly— _oh crap!_

She can’t sense either one of them! She darts for cover just as Kakashi dives, one foot extended. He lands where she was standing, kicking up a cloud of road dust.

“You warned her,” he accuses.

“I did not say I would not.” Sensei retorts, non-smiling.

Minato lands next to Kakashi, his eyes looking strange. There are orange markings and the pupils dilate horizontally like a goat’s…like a toad’s! Minato is using his sensor ability!

“She’s over there, Kakashi, in the bushes.”

Honōka throws herself into a shunshin, covers a few hundred meters, and then matches her chakra to the ambient frequency. She creeps away, as fast as she dares, and keeps to the shadows.

The real drawback to the Nidaime Hokage’s Shōkyo jutsu, is that she can’t mold chakra or use any jutsu without giving herself away. Yet. She’s working on it, like how she figured out how to sense other frequencies even while masking her own, but it’s harder than she expected.

Honōka wipes her forehead. She can’t sense them. They can’t sense her. They want payback for a prank she committed, and she doesn’t feel like finding out what their idea of payback entails. Probably something embarrassing.

The bushes rattle and she throws herself into another shunshin, travels another couple hundred meters, matches frequencies again, and runs.

Right. They can’t sense each other, but they can still track each other. And, unfortunately, Kakashi comes from a clan of skilled trackers. He may be the only one left, but that certainly doesn’t mean he isn’t fully capable of taking up the Hatake name.

She wipes her forehead again. This is…kind of exciting!

It’s less exciting after an hour of running around in the noonday heat of July. She does her best to pant silently and keep moving, carefully avoiding bumping into any tree branches or spider webs.

She’s tried every evasion tactic in the book. Nothing works for long. Some things don’t work at all. Doubling back nearly got her caught. Thankfully, Minato is just assisting Kakashi and not actually chasing. He would have likely caught her before the game even started, had that not been the case.

It doesn’t feel much like a game anymore. She’s tired and sweaty and thirsty and hungry and she’s somehow gotten sunburned in the shade. Her socks have failed her; there are even blisters on her feet!

She wipes her forehead. She smells.

She stops and groans. Scent tracking? _Really?_

She focuses on transforming, becoming a common bobtailed cat between one breath and the next, and quickly scatters her chakra frequency again. She was worried for a moment that she wouldn’t be able to while in a henge, but the amount of chakra she needs to maintain the henge once transformed is so minuscule that it contributes almost nothing to the area’s ambiance. 

Her henge model’s name is Madara—or she calls him Madara. He has a couple orange and brown spots but is mostly white. He’s a stray cat she and her friends feed, and it absolutely drives Obito insane when she calls him Madara. 

Honōka likes Madara. He’s a bit stupid and sometimes really clumsy, but he has a charming face and takes care of the other stray kittens in Uchiha-ku. A very good boy. And he has a very obvious tomcat scent.

Honōka as Madara quickly doubles back. She wants to figure out how Kakashi is tracking her, for future reference.

She’s downwind of them, so she smells them before she hears them and hears them before she sees them. She hunkers down and waits for them to appear.

“Kakashi, it’s too hot for this,” a young voice whimpers.

Her ears perk up and her whiskers twitch. _Dog._ Talking dog. Huh.

Kakashi passes by her, carrying a juvenile pug wearing a hitai-ate and a paper tag of some sort. She can’t sense the dog either. She creeps alongside them, staying just out of range of the pesky pug’s nose. It’s a cute nose, squashed and wrinkly and so cute, but still pesky.

The pug whines and her back arches, ready to spring away. But he just complains about the heat again. Kakashi pats him sympathetically.

“Just a little longer, Pakkun. Honōka must be getting tired by now.”

Minato flickers back to his student.

“Is she still in the area, Minato-sensei?” Kakashi sounds hopeful. He probably doesn’t want to be running around in this heat anymore than Honōka or his pug friend Pakkun does.

“I think so. Hopefully Pakkun will pick up the trail. It seemed like Honōka-chan was building up chakra for a shunshin again, but I didn’t sense her actually leaving the area. Maybe it was a feint?”

Honōka as Madara turns and runs, belly to the ground. The Third training Ground is nearby and Sensei is there waiting. He’s not waiting specifically for her though, so he probably thought she wouldn’t be able to avoid Minato and Kakashi’s payback.

A positively _wicked_ thought strikes her.

She strolls onto the Third Training Ground, imitating Madara's perky gait.

Sensei is sitting on the central wooden post, one leg crossed over the other. The sun beats down on his paper white skin but he neither sweats nor burns. She wonders what his trick is—it doesn’t smell like he’s wearing sun lotion.

He’s reading a journal, and she really doesn’t want to startle him and get something pointy thrown at her, so she meows.

He doesn’t even look up.

“You are not fooling me, Honōka-kun.”

She trills at him, trying to convey how unimpressed she is with him for ruining her fun—she had a plan!—and takes a running leap at the pillar to his left.

“What gave me away?” she asks, projecting her voice with the barest amount of chakra possible. She wonders how long it will take Minato to notice.

Sensei snaps his journal shut.

“Even small animals have detectable levels of chakra. If you wish to become a truly competent transformation artist, you must be able to mimic the signatures of other people and creatures.” His lip twitches; he’s still impressed with her. “Being able to make your presence disappear is only half the battle.”

She grooms her face as Kakashi and Minato appear out of a shunshin. The pug is gone. She wanted to pet him.

“She’s not here either, Minato-sensei.” Kakashi gripes.

Minato takes a quick look around, zeroing in on her, a cat with no presence, immediately. His eyes return to normal, blue replacing yellow in a fraction of a second.

“Oh, she’s here, Kakashi.”

Kakashi looks around again, just a little wild-eyed. He finally stops on her cat form.

“Ah!” he swears. Honōka thinks it might be the first time she’s ever heard him swear. “Honōka can change her scent when she transforms. No wonder Pakkun lost the trail…”

She jumps off the wooden post, reverting mid jump—yet another thing she taught herself at the expense of many scrapes and bruises, and sticks the landing, bowing.

“Please forgive me for setting you guys up. It wasn’t nice of me to leave you to Hokage-sama’s wrath.”

After a moment of silence, Kakashi blows out a big sigh and Minato awkwardly smiles. She can't tell what they're feeling thanks to whatever method they've used to erase their presence.

“Maa…he wasn’t _that_ upset. Right, Minato-sensei?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 消去/Shōkyo: Erase/erasing


	26. a squabble over stolen sheep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why did he think it was a good idea to have three children on one training ground? If one weren’t already a jōnin and the other two functionally chūnin he might mistake them for the genin team he’s been staunchly refusing for the past five years.

“Very well, then. Now that we are all present and accounted for, let us move on to more important matters.”

His student immediately turns to face him, eyes shining. She still doesn’t quiet make eye contact, but it no longer feels as though she’s looking through him rather than at him. A major improvement, no less.

“Come September, I am being assigned to border patrol in the northwest.”

“Kusa?” Minato asks. “Is Iwa still attempting to gain a foothold there?”

He nods.

“Sensei believes stationing one of the Sannin nearby will be a sufficient deterrent.”

Minato doesn’t look convinced, and, for once, he agrees with him.

“The rotation will be three months long. In addition to border patrol, I am independently being tasked with routing enemy camps across the border, and Sandaime-sama has given me leave to recruit whoever I see fit for this task. However, the daimyō of the Land of Grass is not currently permitting any force greater than a four-man team to cross into their country.”

Minato’s student scoffs. “Iwa is literally invading them with an army and they’re treating it like a squabble over stolen sheep.”

Minato regards the information more solemnly.

“They’re…they’re expecting a four-man team to rout an enemy encampment? There could be entire platoons of shinobi.”

“Indeed.”

“How many are we allowed at the border?” Honōka asks.

“Kusa is not objecting to any number we might station on our side of the border.” They won’t see it as an aggression against them, at least.

“How many are being stationed at the border then?”

“Two platoons.”

“…” even Honōka looks skeptical. “Who are you taking with you across the border?”

“That depends,”

Her brow wrinkles, and then her jaw drops. She points at herself. Smart girl.

Minato has likewise dropped his jaw and looks to be gearing up to throw a tantrum.

“Orochimaru-san, are you—are you serious? If I may speak freely, no, I _will_ speak freely! Honōka-chan is not ready to take part in a mission, in a _battle,_ of this scale!”

“Honōka-kun, what did you learn from today’s play date?”

“Being untraceable doesn’t mean un-trackable, and there are ways to hide from sensors like me. When facing an opponent that can track me, retreat to a safe location, preferably where an ally is. And, I need to learn how to imitate non-human chakra signatures to be a more convincing cat.”

“Very good. Minato, explain to Honōka-kun how you and your student were able to avoid being detected.”

Minato flashes him a look that is positively mutinous, but gathers himself with a deep breath. He pushes it aside after likely considering what it would take to go blow for blow with one of the Legendary Sannin. Given how he idolizes Jiraiya, he probably thinks it’s much harder than it actually is. Orochimaru would prefer he keep thinking that. 

With another put-upon sigh, he rolls up his sleeve and peels off a paper tag.

“Oh, that’s the same one the puppy was wearing. Kakashi has one too?”

“Puppy?” the boy snorts. “Pakkun is a ninken, not some _puppy_.”

Honōka makes a face at Minato’s student.

“He’s a juvenile at best.”

“Children,” he interrupts, coolly. “Be silent.”

Honōka sticks her tongue out at the boy and he pulls an eyelid down at her. Orochimaru shoots them a look that isn't killing intent, but is nearly something _not nice_ , and they stop bickering.

“Right,” Minato continues. “So, this is an Uzumaki sealing tag. I tweaked it a bit so it more or less does what the Second Hokage’s Shōkyo jutsu does, except it doesn’t affect the user’s ability to sense others or their ability to cast jutsu. This is because it’s creating a mirrored barrier to disguise chakra flux.”

Honōka takes the paper tag from him and studies the seal. It’s either incomprehensible gibberish to her, or simply boring. He can’t say which from the unimpressed look she gives it. She might even be the slightest bit annoyed that a piece of paper bested her. But he is not an Empath like his student, so who is he to say?

“What’s the drawback?”

Minato offers her a small smile.

“What makes you think there’s a drawback, Honōka-chan?”

“Everyone would want to use these if there were no drawbacks. So, these paper seals are either ridiculously expensive to make; impair the user in some way—or both.”

“It _is_ a bit of both,” Minato admits. “You have to use special chakra infused paper and ink, and have quite a bit of chakra to play around with. Kakashi’s and Pakkun’s seals were programmed to draw chakra from mine, so I had triple the draw to fight against.”

She nods. 

“So, unless someone else knows how to use Shōkyo or a similar technique or has one of these seals or something similar…I’m more or less Iwa’s worst nightmare.”

His lip quirks up. She’s a little premature to be calling herself a nightmare.

“Having a sensor of your capability will certainly make discerning and picking off Iwa-nin a much simpler task.”

“But, Orochimaru-san—”

He holds up a hand.

“I do not expect Honōka-kun to face any enemies at all, Minato. In fact, I am forbidding it.”

His student frowns at him. Who was it that said his precocious little student was ‘driven’ but not ‘impatient’? Her Academy instructor? He clearly did not get to know her well enough.

“You have the rest of July and August to learn evasive tactics. You must learn how to become un-trackable and untraceable; how to disguise yourself as creatures native to the northwestern woodlands—including their chakra signatures; how to use Doton: Moguragakure no Jutsu. In the event that you cannot avoid being discovered by an enemy, you must learn how to dodge and deflect projectiles until you can do it in your sleep; how to land a fatal blow; and how to avoid a fatal blow.”

There’s more, but she’s already nodding. She understands he could go on—that there are many things for her to learn to be even half of what he considers ‘battle ready’.

“Sensei, Minato and Kakashi are training with us—does that mean they’re going with us in September?”

He nods and Minato sputters.

“I am not taking Kakashi on border patrol again! Last time was a nightmare—I barely slept for the entire two months!”

Minato’s student glares and he roles his eyes at them both.

“Your student will be making sure my student does not get herself into trouble, or worse, while you and I terrorize the Iwa forces.”

Minato covers his face with his hands, near vibrating with some stoppered emotion. He exhales a long breath, visibly deflating.

“Okay…okay. I don’t like it, but okay.”

He pushes off the wooden post and lands next to his student.

“No further questions?” he asks.

His student shakes her head.

“They can wait until tomorrow.”

“Very well. Dismissed.”

Minato drills his student on how to safely counter explosive tags and disarm traps while Orochimaru stands with arms crossed facing the entrance to the Third Training Ground. His student is _late,_ and he hopes she can feel his displeasure from wherever she is.

She turns the bend, carrying in her arms a cat of all things. On closer inspection, it looks like the calico bobtail she transformed into yesterday.

“Sorry, I’m late! Madara does not like the body flicker technique at all!” if the scratches on her arms and face weren’t already evidence enough.

Minato does a double take.

_“Madara?”_

She holds up the cat, who looks nearly as fed up with his student's antics as he feels now. Minato’s student has stopped what he’s doing to stare, one eyebrow twitching.

“Honōka, why did you bring a _cat?”_

“Madara is going to be my assistant today.”

“Why ‘Madara’ though?” Minato asks, still fixated on the name.

She looks at him like he’s thick in the head.

“Because he looks like a Madara, and it drives Obito all kinds of crazy when I call him it.”

The boy looks to Minato, who just shakes his head. Orochimaru can only imagine the things they’ve seen and heard his student do already.

“Very well. What can you tell me about this Madara’s chakra signature?”

“It’s small and cranky and rotates counter-clockwise. Madara has a hard lean on yang chakra despite being from Uchiha-ku.”

“…do you think Honōka-chan stole someone’s cat?”

“…it’s called borrowing if you return it before they realize it’s gone.”

“It’s only borrowing if you have permission, Kakashi!”

“…”

Why did he think it was a good idea to have three children on one training ground? If one weren’t already a jōnin and the other two functionally chūnin he might mistake them for the genin team he’s been staunchly refusing for the past five years.

“What do you know about mimicking chakra signatures?”

“Nothing,” she cheerfully tells him. “But I have a plan.”

 _‘I have a plan’_ is soon going to be on his list of things that never fail to give him a headache and drive his blood pressure up. He sighs.

“Shall I leave you to it, or would you like a rudimentary explanation?”

“Hm…I’m good!”

He leaves her to it. Either she’ll grasp it on her own, get frustrated and ask him for the explanation, or come up with a completely new method.

The end of their workday arrives and his student has said not a word to him, Minato, or the boy all day. She’s kept her feline assistant fed and watered and entertained all while silently, contemplating her task.

At fifteen hundred exactly, he prepares to dismiss them. Honōka picks up the cat and trots over to him.

“Well?”

“It’s not like Shōkyo. With Shōkyo I don’t have to alter my chakra’s composition—I just change the way it sounds. When it sounds like everything else, it doesn’t matter if it’s big or small, soft or sharp. It could be as tall as the Hokage Rock, and everybody would just look right through it. It could be thicker than water and still taste like air. It could—”

He holds up a hand. He is not a sensor, and none of that was even remotely relatable to him.

“Your descriptions, as usual, leave much to be desired.”

His student shrugs.

“I need to think about it some more.”

He nods.

“Do not be late again.”


	27. to silence the world and disappear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Honōka-kun,” Sensei warns, softly. “There is a time and a place for anger. In a spar with a friend is not one of them. Did you want to hurt Kakashi-kun?”
> 
> “…no.”

She doesn’t get it the next day, or the day after. Sensei tells her to keep thinking about it on her own time and has her learn tracking from Kakashi. 

Kakashi shows her how to avoid leaving obvious tracks in greater detail than the Academy curriculum did, and how to actually double back to plant false trails. He also teaches her how to make and break camp and make it appear as though it were never there.

When she’s passably good at that, Sensei teaches her the hiding like a mole technique. There’s a bit of arguing about hand seals and nature transformation versus shape manipulation, as well as maximum density and permeability. She agrees to disagree and learns how to do it her own way.

“That is _not_ how the technique works,” Sensei complains to Minato, since she’s not listening to him anymore. “She cannot just _cram_ the dirt into the ground around her and pull it apart again as she moves away. Condensing that much earth would create stone, and pulling stone apart will not yield dirt! Not to mention the chakra required for such an endeavor is substantial…”

Minato scratches his head, equally stumped by the apparent conundrum that is her utilization of the Doton jutsu.

“Maybe it’s more like, Earth Release: High Density Tunneling and Reverse Tunneling Technique?”

Sensei radiates disgust at Minato’s naming sense, and she pops her head out of the ground to intervene. If they’re going to declare it a new jutsu she’s not letting Minato call it something weird.

“How about Doton: Tōkatsuchi no Jutsu?”

Sensei pushes her head back under with the toe of his sandal. Rude! She grabs his ankle and attempts to pull him under but he easily counters her by channeling chakra into his feet.

He’s slowly getting over her casual redesign of the jutsu he favors. It's not worth arguing over, probably. (She doesn’t know why he favors it—making the ground sandy and having to move through it? No, thank you.) She thinks he might be amused by the whole situation, feeling slightly mischievous even. 

Without warning, he kicks his leg up and plucks her out of the ground like a carrot. The force nearly sends her flying, but she clings tightly to his ankle with a chakra enhanced grip. When he lowers his leg, she lets go and rolls over backwards, staring at the spinning clouds in a daze.

“Orochimaru-san, I think you frightened the life out of her.”

“She will get over it.”

She spars with Kakashi for an hour or so every day, both to practice the new techniques they’re learning and to hone their reflexes. And, in her case only, adjusting to protecting her blindside and learning depth perception from visual cues only.

Kakashi is skilled enough to consistently get in her blindside and totally kick her ass—but he doesn’t. He’s sticking mostly to her right side—only occasionally striking on her blindside. When he does, he barely even taps her. He’s holding back. 

He’s holding back and she hates it. They used to go all out and have fun while sparring, and now he’s treating her like someone…less.

Another pass and another pathetically light tap on her left side—she drops into the ground and sits. Kakashi takes a stance and guards for a long minute, expecting her to pop out any second or grab his ankle and attempt to drag him under. She hasn’t quite managed it yet. 

Stubbornly, she remains where she is. There’s actually quite a bit of air underground, if you know how to separate it from everything else.

After three minutes of tense silence, Minato and Sensei notice something is up, something that isn’t one of her and Kakashi’s usual standoffs, and come over to investigate.

“What’d you do, Kakashi?” Minato asks, already feeling concerned for her. “Did you hurt Honōka-chan?”

“I barely touched her!” 

Sensei scoffs. He considers the situation from top to bottom and every angle in quick succession, settling on the actual issue in record time. He walks away, leaving Minato and Kakashi to muddle through the problem on their own. At least Sensei understands.

Minato knocks on the ground. “Honōka-chan, is everything alright? Why don’t you come out and we take a quick break?”

Something snaps inside her.

She grabs Minato’s hand and yanks him down to the shoulder, locking it in a vice grip with the surrounding earth. He yelps, startled as she pops out of the ground and uses his back as a springboard.

She lands on Kakashi, feet first. He wasn’t expecting the sudden and unorthodox assault and they tumble across the ground, sprawling. He’s up first and she tackles him at the knees, unbalancing him again. He falls on her with an elbow to the back and she rolls over to grapple him.

If there’s one thing she’s learned from fighting with Obito, it’s that close quarters means no holding back. Kakashi deftly pins her arms and she headbutts him so hard that they both recoil, pain shooting through their skulls and down their necks. 

Kakashi holds his bleeding forehead, hitai-ate lost sometime during the scrap, and Honōka raises a fist to slug him in the face.

A cool hand catches her wrist and twists her arm behind her back, pulling her off Kakashi and shoving her face down in the dirt. Firm pressure applied on her spine forces her to stay down.

Minato’s freed his arm from the packed dirt and is now gently rolling his wrist as he helps Kakashi sit up.

Everyone is silent.

She bites her lip. Kakashi’s staticky presence is jumpy—confused, angry, hurting. Minato is outwardly calm, efficiently checking Kakashi’s injuries. Beneath the surface, his mind is in a state of turbulence—emotions cycling between caution and general uncertainty.

Sensei is carefully blank. He lets up on the pressure of his knee on her back and when she does not struggle, lets go of her arm and balances next to her on one planted foot and knee.

“…”

“What triggered this ‘fit’?”

Surprised understanding from Minato, then worry, then pity. An ugly feeling nearly chokes her and she wants to get up, swinging, but she’s tired now. And Sensei will probably sit on her if she tries.

“…”

“Honōka-kun,” Sensei warns, softly. “There is a time and a place for anger. In a spar with a friend is not one of them. Did you want to hurt Kakashi-kun?”

“…no.”

“Then what happened?”

“…” she doesn’t know if she can explain it. One moment she was just sulking, and the next moment she was like a flipped switch. She didn’t think, just reacted. “I’m… I’m not broken.”

An unexpectedly painful emotion spikes from her sensei, raw and cutting— _heavy_ —then gone so fast she doesn’t know how to begin unpacking it. But it’s not Minato’s pity or Kakashi’s careful watchfulness. She sits up, slowly.

“Everyone acts differently since this happened,” she says, pointing to her left eye. “Rin, Guy, Obito; even Minato and Kakashi. It’s like everyone thinks I’ll appreciate their pity or that I need to be treated gently while I heal. That’s stupid. He broke my fingers and he broke my eye, but he didn’t break _me._ And Tsunade-san made sure I came out in one piece, so I don’t see why everyone thinks I’m weaker for having survived.

“It’s weird, or maybe I’m weird. It happened and it _hurt,_ but I’m happier now than I was before. But everyone keeps thinking it’s the worse thing that’s ever happened to me. It’s not—it’s really not.”

There’s a pang of guilt from Minato and Kakashi, and that’s not what she was trying to accomplish at all. She doesn’t really know what she wants them to feel, or if she even wants to know how they feel about her at all. Sometimes she wishes she could turn whatever this is off—but she can’t. Even Shōkyo, the technique the Second Hokage developed specifically to silence the world and disappear for a bit, does not help her.

“I… It hurts more, knowing how everyone feels…about me. I’m not pitiable or unfortunate. I’m happy just the way I am.” 

She takes a deep breath. She might as well rip the band-aid off now that she’s here.

“Minato…san…you think my empathy is a handicap—that I’ll never be able to function as a proper shinobi with it. I think someone probably told you to kill your emotions when you became a shinobi, or else they would get you killed? But I think that line of thought is what’s truly dangerous.”

Minato swallows. She’s not wrong, she can feel the truth he faces in her words. Someone either told him those words exactly or something very similar. Words he never questioned, apparently.

“Kakashi, sorry, I lied. I didn’t beat Obito up because he called my taijutsu style stupid. I beat him up because he called my taijutsu style stupid and thought I was weak.” She scowls. “You didn’t think I was weak before all this happened. You were even jealous sometimes. And yeah, depth perception is still hard; having a huge blind spot is hard too. But I’m never going to learn how to overcome those issues if you don’t help me. So stop going easy on me. It's not helping me, and it's not helping you.”

Kakashi is still fuming about the smack he took to the forehead, but also grudgingly coming around to her point of view. He gestures vaguely at her sensei suddenly.

“What about Orochimaru-sama, are you going to tell him off too?”

She frowns and Minato worriedly inspects Kakashi’s bump again. It’s going to be quite the lump.

“What, no? Why would I tell Sensei off? Sensei gets me.”

That she startles a genuine laugh from her sensei is the highlight of her day.

…

Getting chewed out by Tsunade for giving her friend a concussion is not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 透過土の術/Tōkatsuchi no Jutsu: Transparent/permeable soil technique


	28. Red eyes, orange fur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The only thing left is mimicking chakra signatures, which is stupid. Sensor types aren’t even that common. Can’t she just drop in the ground, erase her presence, and call it a day? Because she can do those two things, easily.

It’s August. There’s a month left to learn everything on her sensei’s list of things to make her ‘battle ready’. And the list is growing, not shrinking. She’s pretty sure he’s doing it on purpose.

Today, he’s attempting to reteach her knife fighting. It’s not going well.

“Pick it up,” he tells her, for what is somewhere around the fiftieth time in the last hour. She wishes she were exaggerating.

She picks up the tantō and drops it again. Her hands are vibrating from parrying her sensei’s strikes for so long. She shakes them out. Kakashi hides a snort behind his mask and hand, eye-smirking at her. She glares back.

“Orochimaru-sama, do you know what Honōka’s nickname at the Academy was?”

“Kakashi, don’t you dare say it.”

“Hit-or-miss Honōka.”

She kicks the tantō at Kakashi, who doesn’t even flinch. Minato ducks and it sails over his head, also unfazed. Sensei touches two fingers to his temple. He probably won’t ever admit it, but he only does that when he’s stressed out.

“It’s okay, Honōka-chan, we all have things we’re not great at.” Minato consoles without looking up from sharpening his weird three-pronged kunai.

“Minato-sensei, I’ve seen Honōka throw shuriken at targets three meters in front of her and hit the fence six meters behind her.”

“An interesting technique, if only we could get her to do it on purpose.” Sensei agrees, because he’s unfortunately seen her do something similar.

“You’re all picking on me and I don’t like it,”

“Would you prefer we go back to coddling you?” Kakashi teases. “I’m sure Minato-sensei would, if you ask nicely.”

“Actually, I tried explaining the situation to Kushina and she told me she’d kick my ass for me if I ever treat Honōka-chan like that again. So I'll pass on that. Definitely pass.”

“Who’s Kushina?” she asks. She sounds cool. “Is it the same Kushina from the cards?”

“Yeah—she’s my girlfriend.”

“You have a girlfriend?” Wow.

Minato shoots her a mildly offended look. “Hey, I’m really quite popular.” 

“But you’re such a nerd.”

“…!” he can’t actually refute her. She’s seen his apartment. There are books and scrolls and papers everywhere. “There’s nothing wrong with being a little nerdy…”

Even Kakashi gives him a judgy look here. What Minato is can hardly be classified as just ‘a little’ nerdy.

“Why am I the one getting called nerdy when Orochimaru-san has a whole laboratory?”

“Because labs are cool and a cup of month old coffee growing mold on a desk is just gross.”

Kakashi has to disguise his startled laughter as a cough. He really looks up to Minato, but even he has to admit that his sensei is a bit of a slob.

“As riveting as Minato’s life choices are; I am attempting to teach you the correct way of holding a bladed weapon, preferably without dropping it approximately once every seventy-two seconds.”

Ugh. He’s been counting. “Can’t I just…” she gestures to her hand, which she wills to become a blade. “This?” She can’t drop it if it’s attached to her.

Sensei frowns and crosses his arms at her. He’s thinking fast and complex thoughts that muddy up his feelings again. She’s getting closer to understanding the exact nuance of it, but still not quite there yet.

“The transformation technique is not a reliable substitute for a proper weapon. You may be able to create what appears to be a solid blade with a sharp edge, but it will not have the same hardness as a genuine piece of steel.”

She wrinkles her brow and flicks her transformed blade arm with the other hand’s fingernail. It sounds like metal and certainly feels like metal.

“I don’t understand, Sensei. I thought the whole point of henge was to make the body into something else?”

“No, that is impossible. Henge no Jutsu manipulates what exists to mimic appearances only. It does not actually change the elemental composition of the body.”

“Yeah, but can’t I take what exists and alter it into something harder?”

“No, _well,_ yes…” Sensei gets really frustrated and has to take a moment to put his thoughts into exact words. “The transformation technique is an admittedly odd jutsu with many rules and exceptions. The general rules are thus: weight can be disguised but not increased or decreased beyond roughly ten percent of the user’s natural body weight; the total surface area cannot be greater than the equivalent body mass of the user, or less than it—”

“Sensei—I’ve already broken both those rules.”

His irritation spikes. He’s probably wondering why nothing can ever be simple with his student.

“Do explain.”

“Madara only weighs three and a half kilograms, and I can transform into him. I’m sixteen kilograms, so ten percent of my body weight is one point six kilograms. Assuming the body mass of someone fourteen point four kilograms can be condensed into the body of a small cat, that cat would still weigh fourteen point four kilograms. But, when I transform into Madara, I’m definitely three and a half kilograms. I checked with the weight scales at Rin’s place and everything.”

He picks her up under the arms suddenly, estimating her weight. He clicks his tongue. “You need to eat more,” and puts her down. “Transform into your Madara.”

She does, and when he leans down to pick her up—jumps into his arms, her claws digging for purchase on his flak jacket. He gently grabs her around the torso and holds her at arm’s length.

His eyes widen in surprise, then there’s a flash of exasperation followed by intense curiosity. Even Minato watches with unconcealed interest.

“Did she break another jutsu, Orochimaru-san?”

“…” Sensei is speechless, possibly still processing.

Kakashi sighs loudly. “She doesn’t even use hand seals half of the time. Are you sure she’s even using the same technique?”

“I like to think of hand seals as being more like guidelines.” She replies. “Besides, isn’t it kind of dangerous to use them in battle? It slows you down and telegraphs your next move. That’s stupid.”

“She’s not wrong,” Minato comments and Kakashi glares at her, jealous. He can’t skip the hand seals for any of his jutsu, yet. What he can do is flick through them stupidly fast.

“Where are you hiding your weight?” Sensei finally asks. “There has to be some trick to this.”

She frowns as much as a cat can frown, which mostly involves flicking the ears and twitching the tail.

“I’m not sure? It just goes away until I want to be me again.”

“ _Child_ , you are an enigma.” He puts her down and gestures for her to turn back. “Show me that blade again.”

She does.

“Hold it up, steady.”

He takes a kunai from his tool pouch and taps the spine against her transformed hand. It sounds like metal on metal. He tests the pad of his thumb on the edge—it’s definitely sharp. He pulls back for a moment, considering what other methods he currently has at his disposal. 

He settles on Tsunade’s diagnostic variant of the Mystical Palm Technique, gentle green chakra probing the surface of her transformation.

Surprise in his aura again, and on his face. Then he’s excited and a hundred other things at once. He’s _marveling_ at her blade hand. It’s not even the coolest thing she can transform into.

“Honōka-kun, what you are doing should _not_ be possible. _You_ should not be able to use living tissue to mimic the structure of a non-organic material to this degree—and yet you are... I cannot say if this is a kekkei genkai, or simply a new way of utilizing yang based chakra. If you have any further insight on the nature of this technique, please do _try_ to explain it to me.”

“Um…I just took everything apart and layered it until it fit together again.”

Both Sensei and Minato sigh, and she winces at their scholarly disappointment. 

“I’m sure she’ll find the words to explain it eventually, Orochimaru-san.”

“That was the explanation, Minato. Understanding it is now our job.”

“Oh.”

August, week two. 

She still hasn’t figured out how to mimic other chakra signatures—which is frustrating because she can sense them in a way no one else can and make hers disappear without a trace. And! Sensei’s been taunting her by showcasing all the different ways he can make his chakra signature appear. He’s smugly rubbing it in her face, even.

“I still know it’s you, Sensei.” She huffs. His chakra signature looks like Madara’s, but is still Sensei. “No one feels like you do.”

“You seem to be making distinctions between chakra signatures and emotional tones recently. Explain that to me.”

“Chakra signatures are more…tangible? They’re energy and energy functions a certain way all the time. Chakra signatures have a core, and a shell—the signature and the sensory-field. They make a sound, a vibration? Frequency. Chakra signatures are unique frequencies. Emotional tone is more… I think it’s still part of the chakra signature, but it’s more…it’s like a taste? Flavor?

“It’s strange. I think I’ve been using this ability my entire life, but it keeps getting deeper and deeper. Like, everyone has a frequency that depends on their chakra rotation, density, and speed. And then there’s the ambient chakra all around us, and that has a frequency too. I’ve been thinking, it’s kind of like a blank radio station, white noise, maybe? And it’s really easy for me to match because all I have to do is raise my amplitude and it just harmonizes with everything else.

“But I’ve tried a bunch of stuff and I just can’t seem to make my signature look like anything or anybody else.”

Sensei looks _tired._ She just said a lot of words that he apparently has no context to compare to.

“Oh, Sensei, did you know if you match the speed of your rotation to someone else who has an opposite rotation you can sort of interlock the surface chakra? It’s like sticking to a tree but way stronger!”

“…Would you like the actual explanation now?”

“Hm…no. I’m good.”

Sensei shakes his head at her.

“So stubborn.”

Week three.

She’s knocked pretty much everything off Sensei’s list. She can parry surprisingly well with her blade hand and knows ten ways to gut someone. She can even judge when and how to knock most projectiles out of the air, provided they come at her from at least three meters away. Sensei thinks that’ll improve as her reaction time does.

The only thing left is mimicking chakra signatures, which is stupid. Sensor types aren’t even that common. Can’t she just drop in the ground, erase her presence, and call it a day? Because she can do those two things, easily.

“Iwa-nin are tricky, Honōka-chan. They’re known for producing phenomenal sensor types. The Second Tsuchikage was renowned as Mūjin, the Non-Person. He was a sensor type with a very refined sensor ability and, like you, could completely erase his presence while retaining the ability to detect others. Famous persons aside, nearly all Iwa-nin have ‘earth sense’. Even if they can’t sense you, they very well might sense a person shaped void in the ground.”

She makes a face at Minato for his unwelcome info drop.

“Nerd,” she says.

“Nerd.” Kakashi seconds.

Minato makes an open arm plea to the sky and Sensei has to turn away so that no one can see his dimples. She pouts at his back.

A _huge_ chakra signature enters her unfortunately still immutable two hundred meter sensory-field and she turns to stare at it. How did she ever miss _that?_

It’s ridiculously _big_ and _bright_ and resolutely _cheerful._

“Hello, calling Honōka, anyone home in there?”

She slaps Kakashi’s hand out of her face.

“Sh! Someone _amazing_ is coming this way…”

Sensei’s interest spikes and Minato laughs.

“That’s probably Kushina. She promised to bring us all a bentō today. Apparently I’ve lost weight and must be starving Kakashi too.”

“…” She stares at the approaching chakra signature—though seeing isn’t how she strictly senses these things. Even so, Kushina’s chakra is so huge it feels like she should be able to. “It’s so pretty…”

Minato finger combs his hair and blushes. “She really is!”

Sensei rolls his eyes at them both, though he takes a somewhat cautious (protective?) step towards her.

Kushina eventually comes into sight—a teenage girl Minato’s age with long red-red hair in a high ponytail. She wears the standard jōnin attire with short sleeves instead, and her eyes are _violet._ She’s just as pretty as her chakra signature would suggest.

“Why’s everyone staring? You guys _really_ must be starved, or something, ‘ttebane.”

Her accent is a little strange, but her voice sounds like how she feels— _bright_ and _cheerful._ Larger than life, warm; a hot breeze on a windy summer day.

“Honōka-chan felt you coming…” Minato continues talking to her but she hears static and he moves as though in slow motion, towards Kushina?

She swallows. Something…something is not right.

The warmth drains out of the day and it’s suddenly dark as night—darker, colder. She’s somewhere _cold_ and _wet_ and _dark._ Cavernous.

She looks down and stares at her reflection. Her silhouette is shadowy; _eigengrau,_ the color she sees in her blind eye when she thinks about it too much. She blinks. Luminescent blue eyes with glaringly red pupils stare back. Devil eyes.

_A child that does not resemble their parents is the child of an oni._

A ripple on the surface of the water. Something big, something huge, something _massive,_ shifts in the gloom. Sweat breaks out on a body she feels a hundred million miles away. Here, her shadowy silhouette trembles.

“…”

_**“** **. . .** **”** _

She trembles harder and the water around her makes tiny jumping ripples.

A deeply unpleasant laugh rumbles all around her, and her teeth begin to chatter.

**_“What’s this? A little goblin has come to play?”_ **

She wants to run and hide, lay down and surrender—give up and die. But she promised herself she wouldn’t do that anymore. There are people who need her now, people who _want_ her. And she wants to live until she dies on her own terms.

Honōka looks up.

Red eyes, orange fur. Black lips and sharp teeth; _nine tails_.

A god stares back.

It raises a mighty fist to smash her flat and she squeezes her eyes shut—wills herself to _wake up_.


	29. “Can we have lunch now? I’m hungry.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Very disappointed can mean anything from no ice cream after training to laps around Konoha until they both throw up. There’s also ‘have you met Manda?’ disappointed. Honōka has thankfully not.

She blinks. Everything’s too bright, too fuzzy. She shuts it all out.

Minato’s gentle ebb and flow is a choppy sea of fear and concern; Kushina’s bright and cheerful wind on a summer day is a sudden typhoon of self-loathing and raw anger directed somewhere deep inside her.

She frowns. Where did Kakashi go? He’s supposed to be here.

Sensei?

Sensei is close; Sensei is an island on a lake. The surface is calm, a mirror; she can’t see beneath it. She has a feeling she could dive in and find where he keeps his most secret thoughts and feelings. They would cut, most definitely, like shards of broken glass and mirror—should she try to grasp them. Maybe she’ll try, later, but not today. The island is quiet save for an inviting wind rustling the leaves of the trees.

She blinks. Her entire body feels like it’s vibrating and it takes a moment for her to feel anything that isn’t constant ringing. Pins and needles, then acid scorching the back of her throat and something that tastes like what burnt toast smells like. She goes back to the leaves and the wind.

“How long has she been like this?”

“Seven minutes.”

A firm, unruffled, presence. She takes a step back from the island.

“Tsunade-san?”

“Hey, kid. How are you feeling? Can you stay out of trouble for a _single_ week, please?”

“…” she drifts back to the island. It’s quieter there.

“What happened?”

“Honōka-kun sensed Uzumaki Kushina approaching and became…enthralled.”

“Her eyes glowed,” Kakashi provides. He sounds out of breath.

“That was her pupils dilating, Kakashi-kun. It is a rather common reaction when you put her in front of something she likes—shaved ice, for example.”

She laughs. Convincing Sensei to eat shaved ice had been fun. The wind blows and the leaves dance on the trees, as though in agreement with her.

Tsunade’s hand hovers over her forehead.

“Did…did someone hit her with a bloody _Raiton?!”_

Concern and confusion. The leaves stop dancing and everything goes still and silent on the island.

“No…not Raiton. This feels more like a raw chakra surge. Something overloaded her Chakra Pathway System, right down to the coils.”

She blinks. The island is gone. She’s in the recovery position, and Sensei’s cool hand is on her head.

“Burnout?” Sensei whispers the word, like it’s something terrifying. His fingers twitch.

“Luckily, no. Her tenketsu rerouted and released most of the surge before any lasting damage could be done. She probably has that chikō thing to thank for her body’s swift reaction.”

She tries to go back to the island but it’s like a dream that’s ended already and it’s too noisy to shut her eyes and sleep again anyhow.

She frowns. She’s tingly all over, and something is still ringing way too loudly. It’s her, or her chakra. It's humming louder than everything else, so she flattens it down until it’s quiet and more manageable, like Sensei’s.

Tsunade’s Mystical Palm Technique is still gently caressing her, but the low thrum is still obnoxiously noisy, especially after she finally got rid of the ringing. She pushes her hand away.

“Too loud, Tsunade-san. Sh.”

A spike of playful indignation. “Did this brat just ‘sh’ me?”

Sensei is amused, but also wholeheartedly committed to making her more comfortable.

“Be silent for now, Tsunade. Anyone who cannot quieten their thoughts and temper their chakra must go at least two hundred meters away.”

Kushina wants to leave, but Minato grabs her hand and the choppy concern and self-loathing transform into a murmur of reconciliation between the two.

After a moment of relative silence, the ringing finally stops and the tingling becomes a bearable numbness.

“…” her thoughts clear and she doesn’t know whether she should be horrified by what she just witnessed, or mortified by the fit she had.

She sits up. Sensei’s hand on her head slips off, resting on his bent knee. She glances Kushina’s way and then quickly down. Still bright, still big. Not cheerful anymore, though. Honōka feels guilty for that.

“I’m okay,” she says. “Overwhelmed, but okay.”

Sensei and Tsunade are suspiciously quiet. They’re not asking her what happened, because they seem to already have a pretty solid idea. Or think they do, at least. Minato and Kushina are feeling immensely guilty—Minato because he didn’t issue fair warning and Kushina because of something she probably can’t even control. Kakashi’s puzzling out the mood on his own, but he didn’t see what she saw, so he’s frustrated by his lack of progress.

“I’m really, _really,_ sorry, Honōka-chan. I didn’t think _that_ would affect you so strongly.” Kushina speaks clearly and bows to her. “I’ll…I’ll go now and try ta stay those two hundred meters away.”

“You don’t have to, Kushina-san. I should be the one apologizing.”

“Eh, but, you’re a sensor! I should have known better than ta bring _that guy_ anywhere near you, 'ttebane!”

She turns on her knees and bows deeply to Kushina before she can protest. Then she finally finds her feet on wobbly legs. She feels noodly.

“Even so, I shouldn’t have allowed myself to become distracted by your aura, pretty as it is. I dove too deeply into something that I shouldn’t have. Can you…can you apologize to the Tenko-sama for me? I think I put them in a mood.”

Tsunade chokes on a cough, and Sensei touches two fingers to his temple with a long and deep sigh. He combs his hair back—he never does that! Kakashi’s eyes dart between the two Sannin who are very clearly distressed about something and Minato mouths ‘Tenko-sama’, completely failing to compute.

“A-apologize ta him, 'ttebane?! You, Honōka-chan—you met him?!”

“Yes?” she thinks she did, at least. “Red eyes and orange fur, long ears and sharp teeth? Bigger than the Hokage Rock by a lot?” She wonders how something, someone, so massive manages to fit inside of Kushina’s lower dantian. Maybe it’s a bit like how her weight disappears when she transforms into Madara? “I think I woke them up. They were in quite a…mood.”

“The Kyūbi, _in a mood?”_ Tsunade snorts. “When is it not in a mood?”

Honōka frowns at her, because it’s okay to be unhappy when something upsets you. Life has taught her that much, at least. “You’d be in a mood too if you slept in a puddle.” 

Tsunade splutters, and Kakashi cautiously inches towards the safety that is the relative normalcy of Minato and Kushina.

“Is this about that secret you said you’d tell me later? Can now be later?”

Poor Kushina is bouncing between disastrously comedic disbelief and something fragile and small that feels a little like wanting to hide in bed and cry. Minato awkwardly pats her shoulder.

Sensei is feeling surprisingly overwhelmed, and the more everyone bickers, the shorter his patience becomes. He frowns so hard his dimples appear, giving him a sour faced look.

“Quiet!” he orders.

Everyone shuts their mouths. Tsunade included.

“This is a delicate issue that I would rather not have rampaging through the village like an out-of-control animal. Honōka-kun, Kakashi-kun—this does _**not**_ leave Training Ground Three. If you even hint to your little friends about today’s events I will be _**very**_ disappointed.”

They nod. Very disappointed can mean anything from no ice cream after training to laps around Konoha until they both throw up. There’s also ‘have you met Manda?’ disappointed. Honōka has thankfully not.

“Honōka-kun, yes or no only. You saw a nine-tailed fox?”

“Yes.”

“This was inside what you may perceive as Kushina’s subconscious mind?”

“Sure.”

“Yes or no, Honōka-kun.”

“…Yes.”

Tsunade and Kushina share a vaguely unnerved look with each other. Sensei and Minato are less unnerved, not wary either—but not feeling the usual academic interest about her general weirdness. If anything, they feel…troubled? What did she _do?_

“Yes or no. You could theoretically do this again, even to someone else.”

She glances at Kushina, and then at Sensei. She got sucked in watching, _feeling,_ the spin around the stillness at Kushina’s core. She’d done the same thing to Sensei shortly after. It looked different both times (obviously; they are different people) but she’s pretty sure it was the same thing.

“Yes.”

She expects intense curiosity or interest or something else intrinsically Sensei. What she gets is more akin to anxious mind pacing.

“What you did was very dangerous. You are lucky the Kyūbi was asleep, or otherwise not expecting you. Had it been awake and expecting you, it could have done irreparable damage—or have outright killed you. And the Kyūbi is not the only such danger you face delving into the minds of others. There are many shinobi who are trained to counter mental attacks, to reverse mental intrusions in the worst possible ways…”

Sensei is twitchy, agitated. It’s one thing for her to be a sensor, and another thing to be…whatever it is she just showed them she is capable of. Mind reading?

Oh.

Sensei must be afraid of her reading his mind. Her stomach suddenly hurts.

“I’m sorry… I just… I thought… I didn’t mean to.”

He rests his hand on her head again and tenses his arm, like he wants to pull her close but a gear jammed in the process. That aching fear-pain Sensei feels grows and her lip wobbles. She won’t cry though. 

“I ask again, that you and Kakashi-kun not speak of Kushina and the Kyūbi to anyone—or even discus it with each other in privacy. It is not a matter that can be spoken of lightly, for the safety of the village.”

They both nod.

“I also ask that _everyone_ here refrain from disclosing the true extent of Honōka-kun’s abilities.”

Kakashi glances at her, and his ambivalent sense of jealousy and sometimes respect falls flat. He’s suddenly afraid—about?—her. They all are.

_The nail that sticks out gets hammered down._

Are they afraid of her, afraid of what she can do? Is that what they’re feeling? Why does this always happen to her? First it was her siblings rejecting her for being abnormal and now it’s her friends and _Sensei._

She’s hyperventilating and crying. Great heaving sobs that scratch her throat and hurt her chest. She feels like running, but all she manages to do is tense her muscles.

Then Sensei is kneeling in front of her, cool hand cupping the back of her neck and pulling her in for a bone-crushing hug. She’s confused, and he’s panicking about at least twenty different trains of thought that are all heading for the same track, and it’s already been a long day, even if it’s only noon. Everyone suddenly feels guilt, guilt, _remorse,_ awkward guilt, and some other flavor of guilt that she’s just not digesting. So, she cries on her Sensei’s shoulder for at least another five minutes. 

It doesn’t feel long enough.

“I warned you this _exact_ thing would happen if you didn’t teach her a way to turn it off.” Tsunade sulks.

She’s hiccupping now, and she still doesn’t know what’s really going on.

“Minato was supposed to be working on it. The Second Hokage’s notes on Shōkyo turned out to be an exercise in futility, by the way.”

“I said Tobi-jī-san’s notes _might_ help—not that they would. It’s always hit or miss when you’re dealing with natural born sensors.”

Kakashi slowly eye-grins at her. How he can find any humor at all in this situation is beyond her.

“D-don’t you say it!”

“Hit-or-miss Honōka.”

She buries her face in Sensei’s flak jacket and tries very hard to not start wailing again. It’s a near thing.

“Kakashi!” Minato and Kushina scold. He shrugs. Kakashi thinks anything can be a joke if you try hard enough.

“Well,” Tsunade says, “at least we know her emotional threshold is somewhere around millennia old chakra monster of unrestrained rage and hatred. That’s got to count for something.”

“Tsunade, I do not think that is what _actually_ set her off.”

She’ll forgive Kushina for feeling blatantly relieved.

Tsunade crouches next to them.

“What set you off then, kid?”

She clings to Sensei harder and clicks his tongue at either her or Tsunade. She’s not sure which.

“Really, Tsunade. You know better than to crowd.”

“And you know that’s more the Yamanaka’s area of expertise than it is mine.”

She’s trying to muster up the courage to ask about the sense of fear she felt from them all, but she’s _afraid_ of what that answer will be, which is pathetic.

“…”

Sensei sighs. He’s feeling remorseful again.

“I may have panicked her into this latest fit.” He admits.

Minato scratches the back of his head.

“Don’t you think we might all have panicked her? She finds out she has a dangerous ability that we all know is highly coveted and then she’s suddenly overwhelmed?”

Honōka nods. Thank the gods for Minato and his wishy-washy-ness.

“So…what? We all felt a little worried about Honōka and she has a meltdown?” Kakashi asks.

“You were afraid and it really wasn’t clear whether you were afraid _for_ me, or _of_ me!” she yells at him. “I thought…”

“It doesn’t matter what you thought, Honōka-kun.” Sensei rubs her back, roughly. Gosh. She’s not sure which is bonier, her back or his hands. His callouses feel like marble. “Just know that your empathy can be a double-edged sword.”

She sniffs, loudly.

“Can we have lunch now? I’m hungry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was hard! I don't know if it's what everyone was expecting, or hoping for, but it had to happen sooner or later.


	30. “Clarification, please?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He takes a deep breath in and lets it out slowly, through the nose. She does not know that what she does on a whim spits in the face of modern ninjutsu theory. Perhaps, it is her civilian background that lets her so unerringly challenge what is considered law to born shinobi. She is an unorthodox prodigy.

They have lunch. Tsunade and Uzumaki Kushina excuse themselves. Tsunade because her work at the hospital waits for no one; and the Uzumaki because, jinchūriki or not, she is a very a capable jōnin. She likely had a mission she was meant to be reporting to before this whole fiasco even began.

They eat in silence. He thinks about what he needs to impress upon his student to ensure she does not get herself killed—or worse. But he does not imagine any worst-case scenarios—that is likely what caused the situation in the first place.

They finish eating.

“Honōka-kun, how is your sensor ability functioning right now?”

“There are no problems. Why do you ask?”

“Are we the only presences within two hundred meters?”

“Yes.”

“Three hundred meters?”

“Just us and normal animals.”

“Define normal.”

“Animals that are not emotionally invested in listening to humans talk or are suspiciously non-emotional.”

The fact that she views anyone ‘non-emotional’ as suspect is both a relief and yet another concern. Why is being non-emotional suspicious to her? Did Danzō and his Root agent leave such a lasting impression on her? Or…

Her eyes flick up and down a couple times. She wants to respond to his unasked question but is hesitant.

“Have you encountered many suspiciously non-emotional persons or animals?”

She nods—holding up four fingers. That’s at least three too many for his liking.

“What do you do when you encounter such individuals?”

“Ignore them, mostly. I went to Tsunade-san once, when it felt like they were trying to get closer.”

He grits his teeth. 

“If you ever feel like you are being tailed, immediately find a reason to go to either Tsunade or Sarutobi-sensei.”

She looks at him, and he can almost feel her asking him why she cannot go to him for such a thing.

“If you cannot, or you feel like they may attempt to make contact, erase your presence immediately and hide in any way that you can.”

“Orochimaru-san…is there something you’re not telling me…?” About Honōka, he means. Minato doesn’t know about Root, and Orochimaru cannot tell him.

“He’s talking about the child snatchers.”

Three sets of eyes snap to attention, and Orochimaru wonders how exactly the boy came by that conclusion.

“Kakashi, what on earth are you talking about?” Minato asks, no doubt quite alarmed. “Child snatchers—in the village? From where? Iwa? Kumo?”

Kakashi shakes his head. He points to the ground, and Orochimaru feels a chill go down his spine. He is uncannily spot on. And eerily good at being intimidating for his age.

“Genma told me about them. Apparently, the really skilled kids from the orphanage get recruited early sometimes, but you never see them at the Academy or on squads. And sometimes, a student in the genin apartments will ‘die’ under unusual circumstances. It happens often enough that it’s basically considered fact amongst the older genin at the apartments.”

Honōka gulps. She must be familiar with the information.

“That’s why Genma says it’s good to play pranks or slack off sometimes, isn’t it?” she asks. “I thought he meant it was like, good for the soul, or something.”

Minato facepalms. “And that's why you suddenly started playing pranks on everyone, including Sandaime-sama?”

“At first, yeah. Now I do it because it’s fun. We should all work together sometime and do something _crazy_.”

Not on his life. He has a reputation to uphold, and too much at stake to risk Sarutobi-sensei cutting his budget over a prank on his person.

“Wait, just, everyone back up for a second!” Minato exclaims. “You’re telling me there are kids going missing from the orphanages and from the genin apartments and nobody is doing anything about it? Hasn’t anyone told Sandaime-sama or the council, or their Academy teachers?!”

Kakashi shrugs. “Like I said—they all ‘died’ under suspicious circumstances. Suspicious or not, they’re dead in the end.”

“Except they’re probably not!” Minato shouts.

Honōka and Kakashi shush Minato, and Minato turns his pleading eyes on him. 

“Orochimaru-san, we have to do something about this!”

He considers. How can he respond to Minato without actually saying anything? Hand signs are out—anything that conveys a message is out. Then an idea hits him and he almost scowls. Honōka’s infuriating gestures are worth something after all. 

He mimes his hands being tied. Take it how you will, Minato, take it how you will.

Minato pales, is possibly even a little green. Orochimaru considers that a success.

“Oh.”

They sit in silence—until Honōka sticks out her tongue, puffs up her cheeks, and blows an obnoxiously loud raspberry.

“Honōka,” Kakashi complains, “we’re supposed to be seriously contemplating our next move!”

“I can’t do serious anymore today. I might _seriously_ start crying again.”

“Very well.” Orochimaru is loath to do it, but he doubts his student will be able to focus on anything else today either way. “An early dismissal is in order.”

“Ice cream?” she entreats him, lip quivering. “Shaved ice?”

He pats her on the head.

“You can have both.”

He arrives at Training Ground Three roughly twenty minutes early the next day, intending to search the grounds for paper bugs. Minato has the same idea.

“Well?”

“Only one—on the Memorial Stone.”

“Leave it. We hardly pay the stone any mind anyhow.”

Minato nods. He opens his mouth, no doubt to ask questions he cannot answer.

“I cannot, Minato.”

A long sigh.

“Why _not?”_

He doesn’t answer him. Another sigh.

“Just answer me this? Honōka-chan…you actually care what happens to her, right? She’s not some experiment or passing interest?”

He glares at Minato, who firmly stands his ground. 

“Honōka-kun is a shackle that Sarutobi-sensei saw fit to attach to me.”

“Orochimaru-san—”

“Despite this, I am…thankful…for her presence in my life.”

“…?” Minato stares at him, mouth agape. The expression doesn’t suit his face.

“Any more questions, Minato, or will that be all?”

He shakes his head slowly and closes his mouth.

Then they wait for their students to show up in nearly amiable silence. A major improvement from their usual glacial avoidance.

Kakashi shows up at exactly nine hundred.

At nine hundred and five he issues his customary ‘I am waiting on you’ warning. He still isn’t entirely sure how or why it works, but it does.

Or it usually does. He shifts slightly.

“Oh, I saw Honōka with Madara at that manjū place she likes. Ichiman? Ichiban Manjū.”

He nods Kakashi’s way. He is the regular kind of observant you expect from a child genius. Impressive for his age, but not unusual or strange in the way that Honōka is.

Another ten minutes pass and his student finally appears, hauling that god awful beast she calls Madara. It’s looking like its usual currish self; mismatched eyes and infuriatingly asymmetrical facial markings as insulting to the eye as ever.

“S-sorry I’m late, M-madara really hates shunshin, you know?”

He freezes. Minato and Kakashi tense. The impostor stops.

He, Minato, and Kakashi all know Honōka’s chakra signature well enough by now that they should recognize any unusual discrepancies at this distance. He and Minato are also familiar enough with the feline beast known as Madara to recognize its signature as well.

And…it feels like Honōka and it feels like Madara. Yet, whoever is disguised as his student is doing an atrocious job of pretending to be her. He loosens a senbon in his sleeve, ready to throw.

“Obito! I do not stutter like that!” Madara complains in Honōka’s voice.

“You do to!”

“Only sometimes!”

Kakashi snorts, tension visibly releasing. “Honōka, what jutsu did you break this time?”

Honōka as Madara kicks her back paws off Obito as Honōka and springs away. The transformation fails and the Uchiha boy is revealed wearing what appears to be his bed clothes. His chakra signature no longer mimics his student’s.

“I didn’t break anything! I finally figured out how to manipulate chakra signatures!”

Minato groans and scrubs his face. “And you immediately decided you would prank us with it? It’s not funny, Honōka-chan. I nearly had a heart attack!”

“Can I go now?” the boy, Obito, asks. “I already slept in—Rin’s going to kill me if I miss practice again.”

“Oh, so you’re actually learning tai chi now?” even as a cat, she looks smug.

“S-shut up, Honōka! You beat me, and a loss is a loss. Don’t sound so happy about it…”

She transforms back into herself—or rather, becomes herself once more. He does not think what she does can be considered a classical Henge no Jutsu.

“You can go. Thanks for helping me out! We should work on your acting skills though. Sensei almost threw a senbon between your eyes.”

The boy grumbles, stomping away without another word. Honōka cheerfully waves at him. He’s not entirely sure whether their relationship is good—or bad.

With the boy gone, Kakashi turns to him and asks, deadpan, “So, what did she break?”

A rock passes between them that neither he nor Kakashi react to. She never hits what, or who, she aims for.

“Ow, Honōka-chan! What’d I do?”

Case in point.

“Sorry, Minato-sensei. I was aiming for Kakashi, but my hand slipped.” She resumes glaring at Kakashi. “And, like I said, I didn’t break anything.”

He takes a deep breath in and lets it out slowly, through the nose. She does not know that what she does on a whim spits in the face of modern ninjutsu theory. Perhaps, it is her civilian background that lets her so unerringly challenge what is considered law to born shinobi.

She is an unorthodox prodigy.

“Where to begin,” he muses. “First, you have mastered mimicking chakra signature of other people and creatures. How would you describe your technique?”

“I couldn’t change the way I sounded, so I muted it and started from scratch.”

Minato sits down and sighs. He raises his hand.

“Can I ask questions?”

“Sure!” Honōka chirps. “I’d be happy to answer.”

“You ‘muted’ your chakra signature—Shōkyo?”

She grins. It would be mildly unsettling if not for the current lack of a front tooth.

“Nope! I got this idea from meeting Kushina-san and Tenko-sama.”

“Oh, gods…” Minato murmurs quietly. “Clarification, please?”

“So, I looked at Kushina-san’s chakra and it was really big and nice, and her lower dantian was like, really perfect, so I looked at that too. That’s when I fell into Tenko-sama’s…lair? No. I think it was more like a… Cage… Anyway! I couldn’t sense Tenko-sama at all until that happened.”

Minato’s hand creeps up again.

“Yes, Minato-san?”

“I’m sorry. I think I may have heard you use this term before, but what is the lower dantian?”

“Eh? It’s like, a void? All your chakra spins around it so it’s pretty cool.”

“And Kushina’s was perfect? What makes it perfect? And where is it located?”

“Perfect, like, round. Kushina’s was nearly a perfect circle. Most people have, like, an oval or a wobbly egg shape. It’s located just below and a little bit behind the belly button.”

“Isn’t that the seventh gate?”

Honōka shrugs. “I think you and I are probably not thinking of the same seventh gate, but sure.”

Minato sighs.

“So, Tenko-sama was inside Kushina-sama’s, er, san’s, lower dantian and it got me thinking last night.”

“A truly terrifying thing, that.” He snipes, mouth twitching.

“Sensei! I’m trying to explain something here!”

Kakashi takes a seat next to Minato and gestures for her to continue while rolling his eyes.

“Like I was saying—it got me thinking: why not put my chakra signature there? I’m pretty sure it’s where I make my weight disappear to! So I tried it, and it was like, woah! Total silence.”

Minato drops his face into his hands.

“Honōka-chan, I’m sorry. That makes no sense, and I think it might actually be impossible. You can’t just make your chakra disappear—I’m pretty sure it would kill you if you tried. You must be doing _something_ else.”

Honōka scowls at him.

“You’re missing the obvious conclusion! I didn’t actually make it disappear—I put it in a blind spot!”

Now they are getting somewhere. He crosses his arms and prepares to catch any further leaps in logic.

“Wait…a blind spot?”

Minato is now sitting cross-legged, one elbow on his knee and the attached hand on top of his head. He’s tempted to tell him not to hurt himself, what with how contorted he looks.

“Yeah. I thought the lower dantian was like a vortex with an empty center, void. But it’s not a void at all, it only looks like it.”

“So, what is it actually?” Kakashi asks.

“Hm, I don’t really know?”

Their exasperation must pique in concert because she quickly holds up her hands, placatingly.

“I have a theory!”

“Oh, good. I was worried for a moment there.” Minato says, completely seriously. He wouldn’t know sarcasm if it held him at knifepoint.

“The lower dantian can’t be seen from any angle or with any method. Because it is a nexus to a higher plane of existence.”

Kakashi snorts. “Honōka, be serious!”

Minato is now pulling his hair.

“Kakashi, she is being _serious._ And the frustrating part is, she might be onto something. Trust me, I specialize in space-time ninjutsu, I would know.”

“So, you could not figure out how to manipulate your chakra signature and banished it to an alternative and nearly imperceptible space. What does that accomplish? Surely you cannot actively mold chakra while it is separate from your body?” He feels like telling her that there is a much simpler way of doing it—but expects she would still prefer whatever new insanity she has just come up with.

“It’s not actually separate—it’s just behind a door. Of course, whenever I want to use any emissive techniques, like the Water Bullet Technique, it’ll become apparent that chakra is flowing from somewhere. But, I can transform silently now—and if I want to mimic the chakra signature of another person or a small animal, I just let the appropriate amount of chakra out and it sounds like what I want without everything else mucking it up.”

“What about Obito?” Kakashi asks, suspiciously. “Did you teach him how to do it too?”

“What? No? I just shoved the noisy parts of his chakra signature inside his nexus until he sounded like me.”

Minato winces. Orochimaru imagines the method she describes feels just as rough as it sounds.

“I think I need to be in direct contact to work that trick, but I’m open to experimenting if anyone wants to volunteer?”

Here, she makes little grabby hands at Minato and Kakashi, who both fling themselves away from her.

“Nope! I’m good, we’re good—right Kakashi?”

“I'd rather disarm live explosive tags.”

Honōka pouts.

“Oh gods, Orochimaru-san is smiling. Kakashi—laps? I think we should run!”


	31. super-secret-super-power

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mood changes dramatically. The Hokage regards Sensei with barely concealed suspicion and Honōka frowns. It almost doesn’t feel natural. She can’t quite put her finger on it, but something definitely feels off. She and Hokage-sama still meet biweekly to drink tea and eat manjū and discuss Sensei like he’s a wayward son; but he never aims his suspicion like this—like a finely honed blade.

The first of September arrives. They meet at the Mission Assignment Desk at eight o’clock. Jūn-sensei and Hokage-sama are present, as well as Shimura Danzō.

Honōka wants to pretend to be a nervous stuttering mess again, but Jūn-sensei and Hokage-sama will know something is up and probably get on her case. They don’t know Shimura Danzō is _bad news_.

She settles for being bouncy. Nobody takes bouncy little girls seriously. It’s a small departure from what Jūn-sensei and Hokage-sama are used to, but her pranks have been a major change from her previously studious and quiet personality. And—she hates to take advantage of it, but—she’s a child just getting out of an abusive household. Of course her personality is changing.

She expects Hokage-sama to say something encouraging for their first ‘major’ mission. Or even comment on her excited fidgeting. Danzō speaks first.

“Is it really wise to send a green genin on a mission with such importance?” Danzō asks, challenging the room at large, though mostly just Hokage-sama.

The mood changes dramatically. The Hokage regards Sensei with barely concealed suspicion and Honōka frowns. It almost doesn’t feel natural. She can’t quite put her finger on it, but something definitely feels _off._ She and Hokage-sama still meet biweekly to drink tea and eat manjū and discuss Sensei like he’s a wayward son; but he never aims his suspicion like this—like a finely honed blade.

“It is a rather unusually balanced team, isn’t it…” Sarutobi Hiruzen muses, as if to himself only. To Sensei, he says, “Are you certain the girl is ready for this mission, Orochimaru?”

Honōka’s skin crawls. Hokage-sama has never so clinically addressed her person before. She once was ‘child’ but never _girl._

She checks Sensei on her peripheral. He has to know something is up.

He appears unruffled—but is near seething. He’s hurt by Sarutobi’s unprompted suspicions. Except it was prompted—by Danzō, she thinks.

“It is true that Honōka-kun has not yet seen battle, but she is by no means green, Sensei. I believe border patrol will be a suitable place for her to sharpen her claws.”

A flicker of _something_ passes between them.

“What does she bring to the team, Orochimaru? Do you plan on being a man down in enemy territory with a child as your only backup?”

Sensei’s temper rises to a scalding degree and Honōka takes in a deep breath. _What is going on?!_

“Hokage-sama,” she demurs, like she’s speaking to her father from a lifetime ago. Always wanting to be heard, but always being expected to be the perfect daughter. Be reasonable, be sensible; _be more like your mother_. “I will be supporting Orochimaru-sama and the others with my sensor abilities, like we discussed last week.”

Sarutobi blinks, a flicker of confusion, and then he’s Hokage-sama again.

“That’s right, Honōka-kun.” Hokage-sama’s eyes twinkle. He's not like _her_ grandfather, but he can be _very_ grandfatherly. “You would have given Tobirama-sensei a run for his money, and he was not a betting kind of man.”

He shakes his head fondly and clears his throat. Jūn-sensei unfreezes. He brings the mission scroll to Sensei, who is still simmering. Minato and Kakashi are oddly…uninvolved.

Danzō’s measuring stare falls on her and she takes a moment, just a second really, to sink her teeth into the unpleasant aura the man just oozes.

Every hair on her body stands up. He hardly seems human. He’s a ball of _hate_ and _fury_ and something _other._ He doesn’t know exactly what’s so special about her that Sarutobi and Orochimaru dote on her ( _they do not!_ She thinks) but he knows they see something in her that is _special_ and that is enough to make him want to **_possess_** her.

She latches onto Sensei, mentally. Sensei is an island. Sensei is an island at sea on stormy waves and cutting winds, but he is an island no less. A solitary island on the edge of the world where none have walked before. Sensei's island is not a place to be sullied, not a place for Danzō to track his filth. She _pushes._

Honōka flexes a muscle she wasn’t entirely unaware of possessing and the gray sky clears. In a blink, everything is blue skies, mirror clear water, and green leaves on great maple trees.

She steps away from the island and not even a second has passed. Danzō still flaunts his greasy aura, but it’s no longer so terrifying with Sensei’s island at her back.

She grabs Sensei’s hand and he jolts, anger draining away. He’s immediately self-analyzing his anger and cross-examining the potential sources of it. It loops in confusion, and a lump of dread forms somewhere in his head. He’s suddenly very aware of Danzō, and yet is purposely ignoring him, pretending he’s not even there.

She’s had enough.

“Let’s go!” she pokes Kakashi in the ribs and he nearly punches her, elbowing Minato while raising his fist, who in turn rubs his side and shoves Kakashi’s fist down with a warning look. “Come on! We’re wasting daylight, everybody!”

Everyone moves and they finally leave Danzō’s presence. 

It’s not until they’re well outside Konoha and setting up camp for the night that Sensei sends her a mental tug and casts a meaningful look around. 

“No one followed us, Sensei. I checked.”

Minato and Kakashi look freshly startled.

“What do you mean, Honōka-chan? Why would anyone follow us?”

“You…didn’t notice anything weird at the Mission Assignment Desk?”

Minato and Kakashi glance at each other, worried. They don't think she's being paranoid though. They're worried because she's worried and they trust that if something weird happens, Honōka will be the first to know. They trust her.

“I mean, we were only there for two, maybe three, minutes, max?”

“Neither of you heard Hokage-sama questioning whether I should be on the mission?”

“He what?!” Kakashi snaps. He’s feeling personally affronted for her, and himself. “Did he question me being on the mission too?”

She shakes her head. “Just me. But that’s not the point. Neither of you noticed.”

“Genjutsu?” Minato asks. It’s the only logical answer, but he’s still puzzled. “Why would Sandaime-sama cast a genjutsu on us just to have a private conversation with you? He could have just as easily asked us to leave.”

“It was not Sarutobi-sensei’s doing.” Sensei blandly intones.

“Then who? Jūn-sensei?” Kakashi snorts. “Jūn-sensei likes genjutsu, but he’s _not_ that good at it.”

She bites her lip and glances to her sensei. He gestures for her to ‘go ahead’.

“You guys didn’t notice Shimura Danzō, did you?”

 _“Elder_ Shimura Danzō?” Minato asks, completely bewildered. “No…not at all.”

“Sensei… Did you see Danzō?”

“…Not at first.”

“He’s not supposed to know about my sensor abilities or genjutsu immunity, is he?”

“…Not to the extent that you likely showed him.”

“Sorry, Sensei… I knew something was _off,_ but I couldn’t see just how… _wrong_ it all was.”

He pats her on the head. “Do not apologize for what is not your fault.”

“Sensei, why does no one actually take my genjutsu immunity and sensor abilities seriously?”

Kakashi snorts. “Because you’re hit-or-miss Honōka and total genjutsu immunity should be impossible.”

“And your sensor ability is frankly absurd.” Minato adds.

She scowls at them both. “How was I supposed to know that? Nobody told me.”

Sensei fondly shakes his head at her. “Apparently ‘nobody told’ you how to properly cast Genjutsu Kai either.”

“Jūn-sensei said all the technique requires is for you sharply disrupt the flow of chakra. It’s not hard.”

“It shouldn't apply to…” Sensei sighs. He’s tired, maybe even a little frayed. “Genjutsu Kai should not erase…certain conditions.”

Oh. He noticed what she did to his ‘subconscious’ space. He’s not afraid of her, she reminds herself. Exasperated. Fondly exasperated.

“I fixed the wobble,” she proudly declares.

“Wobble?” he doesn’t know whether he should feel offended or not. Wobble is not a word he wants associated with himself in any way.

“In your lower dantian. It’s still not perfect, but it’s not all squashed looking anymore.”

“You did this when you grabbed my hand and rather rudely dragged me out of the mission assignment room?”

She smiles and makes grabby paws at him.

“I’m never holding hands with Honōka again,” Kakashi deadpans.

She kicks a pebble his way and once again misses her intended target. Minato ducks and it sails over his head.

“Honōka-chan, I swear! I’m starting to think there’s nothing wrong with your aim!”

Kakashi pokes her awake in the middle of the night. She turns over in her bedroll.

“What?” she grunts.

“…”

“Kakashi, _what?”_

“You’re not a morning person, are you?”

“Kakashi. It’s the middle of the night.”

“Fair.”

She groggily blinks and takes in Kakashi’s mood. He’s…anxious. Jumpy. She flexes her sensory-field. Nothing.

“There’s a normal tanuki about thirty meters from here. He probably smells our rations. He’s hungry. Don’t throw kunai at him. I like raccoon dogs. They’re so fluffy in the winter.” She turns over again.

“…”

Kakashi lies back down and turns away from her. He’s still restless about something.

_“What?”_

“Is Shimura Danzō the Child Snatcher?”

“…”

“…?”

“I think so.”

“…”

“Have the masks been watching you too?”

“…yeah.”

“Wanna know my super secret super power?”

“…” Kakashi sighs, textbook put-upon. He’s actually genuinely interested. “Sure. What’s your super-secret-super-power?”

“I always know when my friends are thinking about me.”

“…yeah?”

“Um-hum. So, if you ever need help, or you’re just feeling lonely or sad, say my name in your heart and I’ll be there to answer.”

“Honōka…you are _so_ weird.”

“Hey…!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ulfY8WQE_HE>  
> raison d’etre − Eve MV
> 
> YazzyFic asked for a more detailed description of Honōka so I figured I'd post this for everyone. A lot of inspiration for Honōka in general came from this song.
> 
> I imagine her eyes differently, but that's about it. And, well, she's seven right now so she's tiny.


	32. Eigengrau.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sensei puts down his tea and comes closer, frowning at the shadowy space where her face should be, but isn’t. He’s analyzing it more critically than Minato, eyes narrowed and arms tightly crossed. That combination is only for when something bothers and intrigues him in equal measures.

She helps Minato set up a fire pit in the morning. They’re still far enough away from the border that Sensei doesn’t see any issue with them cooking a proper meal. He still instructs her to expand her sensory-field though, on the off chance that Iwa-nin have crossed the border.

Then Minato takes out a scroll and unseals a frying pan.

“Do you think I could hide things in my lower dantian that aren’t part of me?”

“It’s too early for this,” Kakashi complains. He’s genuinely not a morning person. Or maybe he just takes offense to rising with the sun. There’s a slight difference between the two.

Minato yawns, scratching his head. He split the watch last night with Sensei, taking the first half, so he’s only just gotten up.

“Well,” he considers, “what have you hidden so far? Your chakra signature and your weight, right? Do you hide your clothes when you transform into Madara? Or do you just transform them?”

“Hm…I’m not sure. Let me check.”

He chuckles at her and seasons the frying pan with a slice of bacon. Minato is the kind of person who writes down each step when devising a new technique and rigorously tests it until it does just what he wants it to do. Then he writes it all down again with graphs and tables and finally calls it complete. Honōka just finds what works for her and lets the results speak for themselves.

She transforms into Madara and inspects herself.

“Hmmm…hm. I’m not sure. But my armor weighs more than Madara, so I’m assuming it’s with the rest of me.”

“Transform back, Honōka-kun.” Sensei instructs. He’s sitting as close to the fire as he can without catching himself on fire, cradling a steaming mug of tea. Sensei doesn’t like the cold, at all. He also hates it when it gets too hot, though he hides that better.

She transforms back. Kakashi nods his head, sagely holding his masked chin.

“She’s not using Henge no Jutsu at all, is she?”

“I am not entirely sure what she is doing,” Sensei admits. “Use the hand seals this time.”

“Eh, but they’re so…wasteful.”

“Honōka-kun.” Sensei gives her a pointed look.

She sighs. “Fine…”

_Dog. Boar. Ram._

A pop of smoke and she momentarily assumes Madara’s form, but it’s all wrong and something snaps like a branch bearing too much weight. She’s blown back as the transformation fails with a loud bang and a bigger cloud of smoke.

Minato yelps and catches her before she can smack into a tree and brain herself. Sensei hides a smirk behind his mug.

“And _that,_ Honōka-kun, is what is _supposed_ to happen when you attempt to transform into something with incompatible dimensions.” 

“Sensei, you're so mean! You knew that was going to happen!”

He tilts his mug back and takes a sip. She hopes he chokes! (She doesn’t actually.)

“Can you stall the transformation?”

She’s still pouting at him for setting her up like that, but still considers it.

“Like this?”

She holds an arm out, willing it to become a blade, slowly. It morphs, flesh condensing down into a solid blade shape, surface gradually turning hard, metallic, then steal gray.

Kakashi dramatically gags and Sensei frowns, contemplating something—several somethings.

“That was informative, but not at all a stall.”

She looks at her blade arm and back at him again. What the heck is a stall then?

“What Orochimaru-san is asking you to do, Honōka-chan, is to mold chakra for the technique, activate it, but cancel it before the execution.” Minato helpfully explains. “He’s aiming to destabilize the technique—sometimes you learn more about something by watching it fail.”

She shoots them both a skeptical look. “That’s just sad.”

“Maa, you had to royally screw up using your sensor ability on Kushina-nē to figure out that lower dantian thing, right?” Kakashi reminds her.

“Oh, nice comparison, Kakashi.” Minato praises.

“Think of it as ‘doing it for science’, Honōka-kun.” Sensei encourages, once again hiding a smile behind his mug.

She scowls at three of her most favorite people.

“You’re all ganging up on me—”

“And you don’t like it, yeah, we know.” Kakashi eyes smirks at her. “Come on, you break jutsu on a day-to-day basis. Break one of your own for a change.”

She holds her scowl for another moment.

“Okay, okay. So, mold, activate, and cancel before execution? I can do that.” Probably.

Except, she doesn’t really mold chakra at all for this type of transformation technique anymore? She just kind of uses what’s latent. And it’s less about activating the technique as it is about her just wanting to be something else at this point. Uwah. Doesn’t she just skip right to the execution??

“Um. Give me a minute?”

Kakashi impatiently taps a foot and Minato flashes her an awkward thumbs up. Sensei just waves a hand at her. He’s interested, but he’s also invested in enjoying his tea.

She switches her hand back and forth a couple times, bounces between Madara’s form and her own, and considers what else she can transform into. But she can’t figure out how to make her technique stall at all. She could try making herself really big again—but that went rather badly last time, for other reasons.

“Wait—we’re trying to get it to fail, right? Like how the regular henge failed for Madara?”

“Well, yes, but preferably without another explosion.” Minato grimaces. “That was kind of a calculated risk on Orochimaru-san’s part—he knew that would happen if you attempted to transform into Madara specifically. Stalling is generally safer—the technique dissipates rather than backfires.”

“That’s fine then—I already know what happens when my technique fails.”

She transforms into Tachibana Tomoe—or what remains of her. Her face is missing. Not there.

Kakashi registers surprise. “You transformed into this person before, in class.” He’s curious, wants to ask her who she is, but doesn’t. He remembers how Honōka cried the last time she used this transformation and feels a twinge of sympathy. 

Minato and Sensei don’t have that prior knowledge to draw on and are immediately captivated.

“It can _locally_ fail?” Minato sounds excited. “That’s amazing, Honōka-chan! The chakra matrix of your transformation technique must be incredibly dense to remain stable around this blank spot. Either that, or your concentration is just insane!”

Sensei puts down his tea and comes closer, frowning at the shadowy space where her face should be, but isn’t. He’s analyzing it more critically than Minato, eyes narrowed and arms tightly crossed. That combination is only for when something bothers and intrigues him in equal measures.

“Honōka-kun, how deep does this failed area penetrate?”

“Hm, I’m not sure. I can still see and hear; still breathe, obviously.” She touches her hand to her face—there’s nothing there to feel, or bring up on. She puts her arm elbow deep into the staticky shadow, wiggling her fingers. “Well, that’s weird. Is my arm coming out the other side or is it just gone?”

“Uh,” Minato says, gawping at her. “It’s not coming out the other side, so I guess it’s gone? That is _weird_ …space-time related, maybe? What does it feel like?”

She shrugs, taking her arm out of her face. Her arm looks fine. “It feels like static,” looks like shadow. _Eigengrau._

“Why just the face though?” Minato asks. Kakashi elbows him.

“I would assume the reason is simply that she cannot remember it,” Orochimaru primly replies. There’s no sympathy or pity, just understanding. He’s forgotten the faces of precious people too.

Is it strange that Tachibana Tomoe is precious to her? She wishes she could ask someone—but there’s really no one who could answer her.

“So,” she asks, and even her voice is odd in this form. “What does the failed transformation reveal about my technique?”

Sensei uncrosses his arms and reaches out, _harmlessly_ curious, to put his hand through the visual static.

Just a slight touch and he rips his hand away, stung. There’s a smell like burning hair—burning flesh—and a wisp of smoke curls off the surface of her not-face.

“Sensei?!”

She reverts to herself. Minato is immediately up in Sensei’s space, one hand catching his shoulder so that he doesn’t stumble over the fire pit. 

“Orochimaru-san? Oh. That’s…that’s going to need medical ninjutsu.”

“Indeed. That was rather careless of me.”

Blood drips on the ground and she freezes. She _hurt_ Sensei. How badly?

Kakashi pulls her away to give them space. Sensei turns his left hand over; staring in utter fascination at the tips of his fingers and the perfectly round contour of bone deep wounds on three fingers. A crescent is missing from his neatly manicured middle fingernail. 

She doubles over, nearly throwing up on Kakashi’s sandals, and Sensei laughs at her.

“Really, Honōka-kun? You attended Tsunade’s live-surgery seminar and worked on a cadaver with me and this is what makes you throw up?” he shakes his head at her, amused by her suddenly weak stomach.

It’s not until he begins healing his fingers that he realizes why it’s affecting her. He glances over once and then back to his hand.

“Did it remind you of your own injury?”

She gestures, head between her knees. ‘So-so’. 

He nods. For once, that’s answer enough for him.

They run all day, taking two breaks for water and field rations. Sensei is picky, so he made his own, which are both nutritious and tasty. Kakashi looks jealous. She’ll have to teach him the recipe later.

When they stop for the night, Sensei chooses their campsite more carefully. They're close to the Land of Grass's border, and also to the Land of Waterfalls.

“Honōka-kun, how far can you stretch your senses now?”

“Twenty kilometers, easily. After that it gets kind of hard to keep track of everything.”

Minato chokes on his energy bar. “T-twenty kilometers?!”

“And that’s when I’m looking at _everything.”_ She grins. “The other day when I was looking kind of in this direction, I saw something like Tenko-sama. Ah, don’t worry though. It was still like…eighty kilometers from here.”

“Towards Takigakure?” Sensei feels like he has a good idea of what she sensed.

“Yeah. It was way too far for me to interact with though.”

Sensei scolds her with a glare.

“Did you perhaps forget what I said about the Kyūbi?”

“No, but I don’t think this kami is…being housed by a person? I can’t really focus on human sized signatures that far away anyhow.”

“It’s not sealed?!”

Sensei holds up a hand. The left one. It’s healed. Only a crescent-shaped scar on the pad of his middle finger remains.

“Not our business.” He declares. “The border camp is roughly thirty kilometers west of here. Observe it.”

“Yes, Sensei.”

She turns to the west and expands her sensory-field. It radiates out and the awareness of every creature in her range pours in. She raises her amplitude until the ringing from her own frequency silences everything else. She quickly matches the area's ambiance and begins searching for the border camp.

“Sensei, the border camp is _thirty-eight_ kilometers _west by north_ of our current location.

“Oh dear, it seems my sense of direction has suffered for being stuck in Konoha for so long.”

She laughs. He did it on purpose to make her look harder.

“There doesn’t appear to be anything wrong. Emotional atmosphere is pretty tame…” It takes her a moment but she gets a count she can be satisfied with. “Ninety to ninety-five shinobi. There are twelve signatures I would consider jōnin level. The rest are chūnin.”

Sensei nods. “There are ninety-two shinobi stationed at the border currently. Only eight are jōnin, but I believe I know which four you would consider jōnin. The rest are indeed chūnin. You and Kakashi-kun will be the only genin on patrol during this rotation.”

He crosses his arms, abruptly serious. The fading daylight casts half his face in shadow.

“Tomorrow, we reach the border camp.”

She, Kakashi, and even Minato, nod.

“Iwa has not crossed our border—yet. Current intel suggests that they are in the process of digging in—only setting up for future attacks. Do not assume that this means they will not cross the border during our three-month rotation. It is even possible that our attempts to rout the Iwa-nin in Kusa will result in Iwa renewing their efforts to push for our border, _harder._

“Sarutobi-sensei believes stationing one of his Sannin at the border will de-escalate the situation.” Sensei clenches his jaw. Something ugly wells up inside him, but he’s expecting it now. He stamps it out and refuses to feed it and let it grow into a raging fire again. “I do not believe that will be the case.”

He thinks the opposite will happen. Honōka’s gut instinct agrees.

“It is not my intention for either Honōka-kun or Kakashi-kun to actively participate in battle, Minato. However, things rarely go to plan.”

“Orochimaru-san…” Minato protests, weakly.

“Should this escalate into a border skirmish, your orders are to remove them, Minato. I trust you can do so with the Hiraishin no Jutsu?”

The tension melts off Minato’s face.

“Easily, Orochimaru-san.”

Kakashi is less happy with that order—but orders are orders.

“Honōka-kun,”

“Yes, Sensei?”

“Would you like to hear my thoughts on your _‘failed’_ transformation now?”

She swallows. Nods.

“Yes, Sensei.”

He smiles viciously, _proudly._

“It is lethal. Wield it carefully.”


	33. “Sensors sense chakra!”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kakashi crosses his arms at her. “You just said it yourself, dumbass—spiritual chakra can’t be calculated—it’s undetectable by itself. And when someone uses genjutsu they separate their spiritual chakra from their physical chakra. So, if there’s no physical chakra to channel the emotions from the spiritual chakra, your sensory perception is blocked.”

They arrive at the border camp before noon. It’s both what she expected and yet not.

The tents are big and green, and Konoha’s leaf symbol is on basically everything. The red Uzushio swirls are a familiar pop of color on everyone’s back. She recognizes a couple other clan symbols—namely a group of Uchiha eating at a rough-hewn table laughing at each other’s jokes.

And it’s all kind of…out in the open? Shouldn’t they be concerned about being seen?

Sensei sees her judging and gestures to one of several tall wooden posts. There are large paper seals plastered on them.

“Hidden? Can seals cast genjutsu?”

Minato hears the word ‘seals’ and jumps on it from there.

“It’s so much more than genjutsu, Honōka-chan! Do you see the smaller character there? That one means—”

“Mirror. Yeah, I know. I can read, you know?”

He’s unfazed by her retort.

“These seals are from Uzushiogakure originally, and they create a complex barrier that affects the way this area appears from afar. It mirrors the surrounding environment to hide the camp and has a secondary feature that confuses those who approach the camp into gradually getting turned around.

“How come we weren’t affected?

“Orochimaru-sama has the counter seal.” Kakashi answers. 

She turns around and starts walking. “Sensei, stay. I want to see what it looks like.”

His lip twitches. “Do not get lost.”

“Kakashi, why don’t you go with Honōka-chan?” Minato suggests. “Stay out of trouble, yeah?”

Kakashi sighs and catches up to her with a shunshin.

“We’re supposed to be meeting with the captain of the border patrol, not playing in the woods, Honōka.”

“We’re not _playing_ in the woods, we’re inspecting the barrier, Kakashi- _senpai.”_

He rolls his eyes at her weak attempt to appeal to his ego. It only worked the first few dozen times. He learned his lesson after she tricked him into a three way weed plucking competition with Guy while she reaped the reward for the D-rank herself. She bought them lunch afterward with the money though, as was fair.

They stop and look back.

“Are we outside the barrier yet?” she asks.

“You tell me. You’re the one with the sensor ability.”

“I couldn’t even tell there was a barrier in the first place?”

“…It’s probably a farther out.”

They walk another fifty meters or so, and Kakashi suddenly pokes her in the side.

“We’re outside. What’s it look like to you?”

She stares back at the camp; squints.

“Minato-san lied. It has to be genjutsu.”

“He said it was ‘more’ than genjutsu,” Kakashi supplies. “Are you sure you can’t sense it somehow?”

“Give me a second. I’ll see if it’s a frequency thing.”

“Do I even want to know?”

She sticks her tongue out at him and concentrates.

The more she uses her sensor ability, the harder it becomes to define. Even before, as Tachibana Tomoe, she had _something_ that wasn’t quite normal. And then she became Tsunemori Honōka and Might Duy asked her if she could mold chakra. Suddenly there was a whole scientific phenomenon to explain what she felt and _why._

What she feels is the real and very tangible energy contained within the chakra that makes up a person’s chakra signature. _Why_ she feels it depends on two variables; her emotional hypervigilance, empathy; and her heightened chakra sensitivity, her sensor ability.

The problem is, there are so many facets to any given chakra signature; rotation, ratio, quality, quantity, nature affinity… And her empathy blurs the line between what is physically present and what is not; emotions, psyche—the more spiritual aspects.

She facepalms. “Kakashi, I’m an idiot!”

He shoots her a wary look for her outburst. “Did you have another epiphany? Should I get Minato-sensei or Orochimaru-sama?”

“No, _well,_ maybe…? Kakashi, I’ve been using my sensor ability ALL wrong!”

“…Okay?”

She wants to shake him, or maybe herself. He takes an exaggerated step away from her.

“Remember when Jūn-sensei talked about yin and yang chakra?”

“Sure. Which part specifically?”

“The Tale of Heaven and Earth part.”

“Okay, yeah. I remember.”

“Sensors sense chakra!”

“…yeah, Honōka, I kind of thought that part was obvious.”

“Sensors sense _physical_ chakra. But there’s also _spiritual_ chakra. I sense emotions—no one else does. Therefore, my sensor ability _must_ sense both physical and spiritual chakra!”

“So,” he’s getting impatient now, “can you, like, sense the barrier now?”

“What? No? It’s clearly genjutsu, or something.”

“Honōka, genjutsu is _yin-based_ chakra. _Spiritual_ chakra. You just argued that your sensor ability is probably yin-based. I’m seeing a problem here.”

She squints at him and back at the barrier that she’s just not seeing.

“That is a problem, isn’t it?”

They converge on their teachers when they finally finish speaking with the border patrol captain and his vice-captain.

“Minato-sensei—can fūinjutsu be genjutsu too?” Kakashi immediately asks. “Honōka can’t see the barrier or sense it.”

“Eh? She can’t?”

“Not at all,” she groans. “Normally I wouldn’t care, because genjutsu doesn’t affect me personally, but if I can’t even sense genjutsu being used, that’s a major problem.” Especially if genjutsu is being used on the people close to her.

“That _is_ a major problem.” Sensei agrees. “You do not sense the barrier at all?”

She shakes her head.

Sensei forms one handed seals and Kakashi momentarily goes doe eyed, before quickly breaking himself out of it. He shoots Sensei a glare.

“And that?”

She bites her lip and shakes her head. “Nothing.”

Sensei walks away, and they follow. They sit on folding stools at a fire pit that is embers only.

“Honōka thinks her sensor ability is yin-based—”

“Yin-yang, actually, because I sense—”

“Physical and spiritual chakra.” Sensei finishes. “That would be the logical conclusion.”

She opens and closes her mouth a couple times. Sensei weaves his fingers together in front of his mouth and smirks.

“Sensor types have a nearly uniform way of describing what they sense, Honōka-kun. It mostly involves picking up on waves or vibrations from chakra signatures. Frequencies, as you have also described it. There are also sensors who would call individual chakra signatures ‘big’, or ‘small’, ‘warm’, _‘staticky’,_ and so on.

“However, being able to sense a chakra signature does not allow a sensor to intimately understand the emotional state of their target. What you do is highly unusual, therefore it likely differs from the standard sensor type in some way. The conclusion I came to, given your predicted chakra ratio, is that your sensor ability is a pure Yin-Yang Release.”

She pauses. She’s never heard of Yin-Yang Release—or Yin Release, or Yang Release. The Academy only taught her that there are five elemental releases, several advanced elemental releases, and that certain jutsu require either more physical chakra, or more spiritual chakra. There’s also the way he described her ratio just now.

“'Predicted' ratio, Sensei?”

“Ah, yes. Your class used the Uzumaki chakra aspect papers. A convenient bit of seal work, that.”

She’s sensing a ‘but’ in there somewhere.

“Chakra ratios are a relatively new theory,” Minato answers. “Or, they are in the Land of Fire. It was pretty commonly accepted in Uzushio, before it fell. In general though, ways to determine how much physical chakra a person has have existed for a couple centuries already. Spiritual chakra has been—kind of?—a myth for most that time.”

She frowns at him, and Kakashi backs her up with a disbelieving stare.

“Genjutsu _is_ yin-based though, it uses spiritual chakra—they teach that at the Academy.” Kakashi challenges.

“It’s more like…” Minato scratches his head. “We have reason to believe it exists, even if we can’t actually prove it?”

Kakashi groans. He doesn’t like theoretical work. Honōka does, though.

“I think I get it. Guy has a lot of physical chakra, but very little spiritual chakra. If spiritual chakra can’t be calculated by itself, then the Uzumaki seals we used determined the maximum amount of physical chakra he could use. Because there would be physical chakra left over, it supports the existence of spiritual chakra, which in theory is mixed with physical chakra to use ninjutsu. In Obito’s case, he could use all of his physical chakra without succumbing to terminal chakra exhaustion, therefore, he has a greater amount of spiritual chakra. Other factors can then determine the ratio, like quantity and quality.”

“Yeah, that’s more or less how it works.” Minato heartily agrees. “Are you sure you don’t want to learn fūinjutsu? I think you’d be good at it, Honōka-chan.”

She blows a raspberry at him. Kakashi pushes her off her stool.

“But why can’t Honōka see _or_ sense the barrier? She clearly has spiritual chakra and can probably use that Yin-Yang Release Orochimaru-sama mentioned.”

“I initially assumed genjutsu would not affect Honōka-kun because of her balanced ratio, as it suggests that her Chakra Pathway System operates at maximum efficiency—any attempts to disrupt the network would simply fail.” Sensei crosses his legs. He’s frustrated about something, missing something. “This may still be true. The problem now is that Honōka-kun is incapable of detecting genjutsu the usual way.”

“What’s the usual way?” she asks.

“Getting caught in it and dispelling it.” He replies, dryly.

“Why can’t I sense it with Yin-Yang Release? I can sense what people are feeling—that’s the influence of their spiritual chakra on their physical chakra, right?”

Kakashi crosses his arms at her. “You just said it yourself, dumbass—spiritual chakra can’t be calculated—it’s undetectable by itself. And when someone uses genjutsu, they separate their spiritual chakra from their physical chakra. So, if there’s no physical chakra to channel the emotions from the spiritual chakra, it blocks your sensory perception.”

“…”

“Kakashi, _nicely_ said!” Minato exclaims, offering him a high-five. Kakashi blushes and awkwardly reciprocates, but she can tell he’s pleased with the praise.

She pouts. Is Minato just going to ignore the fact that Kakashi called her a dumbass to her face?

“There’s got to be a way for me to fix it though, right?”

“No technique is perfect, Honōka-kun.” Sensei replies. “It is enough that you are now aware of your technique’s weakness.”

She’s not really satisfied with that—might never be satisfied with it. She’ll have to figure out some kind of workaround.

“I guess.”


	34. “Haircuts are itchy.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “…” Sensei wants to say something else to her, but can’t seem to find the words. He settles for ruffling her hair some more. “You need a haircut, child. You look positively feral.”
> 
> She pouts. “Haircuts are itchy.”
> 
> He scoffs. That sounds like a challenge to him, apparently. “Minato, get me a pair of scissors.”

Day one of border patrol is just them putting down roots; setting up a tent and other quality of life necessities. Luckily, Minato is a fūinjutsu-shi. This means he brought a large square tent and a propane camping stove, as well as various cookwares and dehydrated food stuffs, all in one scroll. Apparently though, fresh food and storage seals don’t always mix well. He attempted to bring several bunches of bananas as an experiment and they’ve all shriveled up and turned black.

There’s a large mess hall like tent already in the border camp, but it doesn’t hurt to have their own mini kitchen for privacy’s sake. Sensei and Minato are basically VIPs and even Kakashi’s been getting the occasional scornful glance, which she is carefully monitoring.

Honōka, by comparison, flies _nearly_ under the radar. She’s not being completely _missed,_ just grossly mislabeled. In fact, she’s willing to bet most the shinobi at the camp are convinced she belongs to Minato and is just along for the ride, like Kakashi. (They’re wrong on both accounts.)

So, seeing as Sensei and Minato are talking strategy and Kakashi is listening to them rather than watching her, she decides to take a look around the camp.

“Little missy, you busy?” 

She stares up at the large man, who’s about the Hokage’s age. His chakra is robust and rather dense for a man nearing fifty, she thinks. Perhaps it’s an Akimichi trait.

She slowly shakes her head.

“I’m not busy.”

“Do you think your jōnin sensei will mind me borrowing you for a bit?”

She shakes her head again.

“Good. My brats ran off on me and these potatoes ain’t peeling themselves.”

She glances at the sack he’s carrying—longer than she is tall—and then the man’s huge hands. One finger is probably bigger than the largest paring knife she owns.

“I can help.”

He laughs; a surprisingly tame sound for his size.

“Come on, then. I got the buckets set up by the water pump.”

He leads and they get straight to peeling—her with a paring knife and the giant man with a comically small vegetable peeler. She’s not quite sure why he singled her out amongst all the other young chūnin. It didn’t feel quite spontaneous.

“Oi, little missy,” he says. “What’s your name?”

“Tsunemori Honōka-desu.”

“Tsunemori, eh? Any relation to the folks at Tsunemori-ya in the Steam District?”

Why does _everyone_ know her family’s bathhouse? Tenjin-ya is so much nicer.

“Yes.”

He chuckles, oblivious to her discomfort.

“Thought so—you look just like Sachiko-chan’s boy. ‘Suppose it’s him that looks just like you.”

“Sachiko…?” It clicks then. Her sister married a man named Akimichi Nagihiko when she was…three? “Oh.”

Her response makes him pause, the heavy set of his dark-rimmed eyes and cat-eared hat-and-hitai-ate giving him a nearly feline look of distaste.

“Sachiko-chan don’t talk much about her family.”

She shrugs.

“There’s not much to talk about.”

He considers; a faint, unhappy, rumbling deep in his chest as he does.

“’Suppose some families are like that,” he allows.

“Un.”

“Akimichi Torifu, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, Torifu-san.”

They continue peeling in silence. Torifu feels a small amount of irritation—with himself. He doesn’t like awkward silences.

“So, who taught you how to peel potatoes?”

She rolls her shoulders. Her grandfather from a lifetime ago. “Learned by watching,” she says.

“I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to cut away from yourself, missy.”

“It’s faster to do it this way.”

“…”

“…”

They’re halfway through the bag. Torifu turns a question over and over in his head and Honōka turns a potato over and over in her hand, peel dropping into a pile at her feet.

“Do them eyes mean anything? Sachiko-chan’s ain’t like them but—”

The knife slips on the starchy potato flesh and catches on her palm. Blood wells up and drips off her hand in fat drops, then in a steady trickle.

Torifu dries his hands on his pants and digs in his tool pouch for a roll of gauze.

“Here, missy.”

She numbly takes the gauze and applies pressure. It’s a fairly deep cut.

“A child that doesn’t resemble their parents is the child of an oni…”

“You say something, missy?”

She shakes her head and stands up.

“Sorry. I’m done. Thank you for the gauze, Torifu-san.” She bows and bolts back to her team’s tent.

They’re still debating strategy. She sticks her bloody hand in Sensei’s face, which he promptly moves to a more appropriate viewing distance. He clicks his tongue sympathetically.

Kakashi screws up his nose, a little wrinkle forming in his mask. “Stinks like raw potato.”

She shoves her other hand in Kakashi’s face and he recoils sharply, falling out of his chair.

“I see your clumsiness with knives extends to cooking.”

“Sometimes.”

Sensei doesn’t push the issue and begins healing her palm.

“I met Akimichi Torifu.”

“Did you now?”

“Sachiko-nē-san married an Akimichi.”

He glances up and immediately knows something has upset her.

“I have a…nephew?”

“Indeed. His name is Kōen.”

She jerks, surprised, maybe even feeling a little betrayed, and Sensei holds her arm steady in an iron grip. He continues healing her now very minor cut.

“I met him when I spoke to your sister in June.”

“About our father?”

He nods. Kakashi and Minato awkwardly move to the other side of the tent, attempting to look busy at the camping stove.

“Does he…” she gestures at her eyes.

“No. He takes after his father in that department, I imagine.”

“Oh. Torifu-san said that we looked alike.”

Sensei compares them for a moment in his head.

“His coloring is very much a mix of his father and mother. Your facial features, however, are _quite_ similar.”

She nods.

He finishes healing her hand and pats her head, roughly tousling her hair. “This unruly hair is by _far_ the most similar.”

She ducks her head, blushing. She can’t help it if it’s unruly. It does what it wants.

“…” Sensei wants to say something else to her, but can’t seem to find the words. He settles for ruffling her hair some more. “You need a haircut, child. You look positively feral.”

She pouts. “Haircuts are itchy.”

He scoffs. That sounds like a challenge to him, apparently. “Minato, get me a pair of scissors.”

“Ah, wait, leave this part though,” she tugs on the longer part at her left temple. “It’s cool, and Rin agrees with me.”

She can feel the snarky comment already forming in Kakashi’s head.

“Don’t even try, Kakashi—I’ll tell Rin.”

He snorts. “You’ll forget to tell her by the time our rotation is over.”

She recites a conversation he had with Guy, word for word, and he hurriedly plants a hand over her mouth. She raises an eyebrow at him and licks his hand.

“Gross, Honōka!” he shakes his hand out. “Okay, yeah, I kind of set myself up for that one… Jeez, you never let anyone live down _anything,_ do you?

“I prefer to think of it as holding everyone accountable for their actions—ack! Sensei—cold!”

He’s holding a blob of water in one hand, and scissors in the other. She shivers.

“Sit down and hold still. I would hate to take an ear off.”

She sits.

He drops the blob of water into a bowl after thoroughly wetting her hair and starts clipping. Given the back of her head is a mess through and through, he takes it all down to a couple centimeters. Then he picks up the water in the bowl and collects all the itchy bits of hair sticking to her neck… She really shouldn’t be surprised. Sensei has a solution for everything.

“Will you properly brush your hair if I leave the top longer?”

“Do I get to keep this part?” She tugs the long hair at her temple.

He sighs. “Very well.”

“Okay. I didn’t bring a brush though.” She doesn’t tell him she doesn’t own one.

“She’s lying; she doesn’t even own a hairbrush, Orochimaru-sama.” Kakashi tattles.

She turns to find something to throw at him, and Sensei points her head straight ahead. He sighs, again.

“Children,”

“They grow up, eventually, or so I’m told,” Minato offers.

Sensei scowls and repeats himself, with feeling. _“Children.”_

He snips at her mop for another few minutes, pausing every so often to collect the offensive clippings, and does not touch her future Jedi braid. She thinks it might be on the wrong side, but that’s besides the point—and she’s still kind of upset she missed the local release in her last life. Ojī-chan promised to take her on July tenth for the theater release. She absently raises a hand to twirl it, and Sensei pushes her hand away with one finger.

“Done.” Sensei finally announces. “Do try to keep it respectable in the future.”

She shakes her head vigorously and it poofs up, ends already turning out in random directions. Minato laughs.

“Kakashi, Honōka-chan's hair is almost as bad as yours!”

“What are you saying, Sensei? Honōka’s hair is clearly worse.”

That night, after they’ve laid out their bedrolls and put out the lights, Honōka turns over and pokes Kakashi.

“My hair is _way_ worse than yours.”

Kakashi feels confused.

“Yeah, that’s what I said?”

“My hair is the worst, therefore it’s better than yours.”

“What? _Why?”_

She giggles and turns over again.

“Hey…! How’s it supposed to be better if it’s worse? Honōka…? Oi, tell me why—”

 _“Children._ Do shut up.”


	35. “Tsunemori Honōka-desu.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re a slimy snake bastard and you shouldn’t be allowed anywhere near children.” Kōmori accuses. “Look at this one; I’m sure she was a nice, normal, kid before you got your hands on her.”

Day two begins at dawn with Sensei and Minato scaring the life out of both her and Kakashi.

Minato finger whistles and Kakashi springs out of his bedroll with a kunai at the ready. Honōka falls through the bare dirt the tent rests on, arms flailing as she goes under. After a moment of finding her bearings and confirming that nothing potentially life threatening is occurring, she peeks her head above the ground, eye level only. Minato turns away, holding his mouth to smoother the escaping laughter.

She climbs out of the ground, hauling her bedroll with her.

“That wasn’t funny,” she tells him.

Sensei crosses his arms at her. He’s less amused and more unsatisfied with her reaction.

“Kakashi-kun responded correctly to the unconsciously perceived threat. Honōka-kun, you did not.”

She petulantly curls up in her bedroll, burying her face in the thick and somewhat scratchy material, then sticks an arm out to give them all a thumbs down. “My sensor ability hates you all right now.”

“Does your sensor ability have sentience, Honōka-kun?” Sensei retorts.

She grumbles.

“…no.”

“I didn’t think so. Up, now. We have a busy day ahead of us. Minato, put on the kettle. Kakashi-kun, miso soup. Honōka-kun, get a dozen eggs from the mess hall.”

She worms her way out of her bedroll and goes hunting for her stirrup socks and shinobi sandals. They _are_ on border patrol so she slept in her clothes. Ugh. Three months of sleeping in armor is going to get old, fast.

She flickers to the mess hall—startling the two chūnin on duty.

“A dozen eggs, please.”

“Uh…we can’t just give you eggs, kid.”

“Orochimaru-sama told me to get him a dozen eggs.”

They look at each other and quietly parse out what to do, then awkwardly slide her a carton of eggs. She thinks Sensei's name should be its own form of bullying.

“Thanks!”

She flickers back to the tent and is greeted with a pat on the head. She ducks out of it and gives Sensei the stink eye. She hasn't forgiven him for the wake up call, yet. He chuckles at her.

Minato is rinsing rice to put in a pressure cooker, and Kakashi is bringing a batch of miso soup to a simmer. That Sensei trusts Kakashi with the miso soup over Minato probably says nothing good about Minato's cooking skills.

She puts the eggs down on the folding table Minato brought and sits on one of the matching chairs, bringing her knees up to her chest. She didn’t sleep well last night. Too much activity in the camp.

“What are we doing today?” she asks, yawning.

 _“You_ will be doing reconnaissance with the Intelligence Division here in the camp.” Sensei sits across from her and opens the carton of eggs. He takes one and pushes the carton her way. “Depending on what you find, Minato and I may commit some light sabotage at sunset.”

She takes an egg and they crack them on the tabletop in unison. Kakashi watches on in horrified disgust as they swallow down the eggs, raw. He tugs on Minato’s sleeve, urgently.

“Sensei, Sensei! They just ate raw egg!”

“Sensei, Sensei!” she mimics. “Show him the trick where you swallow the whole egg!”

Sensei reaches for the carton, but it’s only to put his broken egg shell in one of the empty slots. She pouts.

“Not before breakfast, Honōka-kun. It would be rude to put Kakashi-kun off his meal.”

Minato laughs awkwardly, and Kakashi grips his sleeve tighter. “Oh, look guys, the rice is done…haha…!”

After breakfast Sensei shows her to the tent where the Intelligence Division works from. They seem to operate on shift work, as a group of four chūnin are just leaving, yawning and rubbing their eyes, as another group of four take over.

It’s dark inside the tent, but she’s never really had trouble seeing in low lighting.

At the back of the tent, a man with major bags under his eyes reclines on a folding chair being held together with compression bandages and spite. They approach him.

“Yo, Orochi,” the man drawls unenthusiastically. “How can I help you today?”

“It is rather how _I_ can help _you_ today, Kōmori.”

Honōka glances between them. There’s some kind of thinly veiled maybe-animosity-maybe-not-animosity. She’s not entirely sure just yet.

The man, Kōmori, gestures to the four chūnin situating themselves at the long table in the center of the tent.

“As you can see, I have all the help I require.”

Sensei makes a noise that is one hundred percent meant to sound the way it sounds—patronizing. He _maybe_ really doesn’t like this guy? She's not quite getting the exact nuance.

“Yes, I suppose you do. Of course, if you were planning planning on _actually_ looking beyond the border, you would need a significantly larger team—or perhaps one S-rank sensor-nin.”

Kōmori slowly leans forward, chair creaking ominously. His eyes flick down to her and he discretely focuses his chakra—oh, he’s a sensor type!

“The kid doesn’t seem like much, Orochi.”

Sensei rests a hand on his hip and gives her a mental nudge. _Go wild_ , he seems to say. Not like there’s any point in her hiding if the biggest Boogie Man around already knows what she is.

She slyly glances over to the chūnin at the table. They’re wearing interesting helmets and seem to be manipulating water droplets on a map of the surrounding area, except she knows each of those drops is an ally in their camp. She wonders what would happen if she made her frequency _really_ screech?

The man in front of her winces and the water droplets on the table explode. One of the chūnin sensors rips their helmet off altogether.

Then she raises her amplitude until it matches the area’s ambiance and effectively disappears, leaving the chūnin sensors at the table scrabbling to figure out where the sudden spike came from.

“Kōmori-san! Unconfirmed encounter with an enemy sensor-nin!”

Kōmori near snarls.

“Shut up, Kanzai! It’s just Orochi’s little monster here.”

Four heads turn, gaping at her. She crosses her hands behind her back and cheekily waves at them from where their boss can’t see.

“You lot, stop gawkin’ and get back to work!”

A long moment passes, of which Kōmori attempts to discern her chakra signature. She’s shocked when he gets it.

“Shōkyo, huh? You’re brazen, I’ll give you that much, brat.”

She purses her lips.

“However, Shōkyo’s old school now, _brat._ You’ll have to come up with something else to trick ears like mine.”

She tilts her head at Sensei, subtly pointing her chin to her stomach. Sensei returns her an amused eye roll.

She pulls her chakra in with an exaggerated sigh and places it inside her lower dantian, beyond the nexus.

Total silence.

A shiver that’s three parts thrilled and one part absolutely terrified runs down her spine. She’s not used to not _feeling_ anything. The silence is like staring into an impossibly deep chasm with no bottom. It makes her feel weak in the knees, and she’s not even afraid of heights.

She holds it. She can’t tell what Kōmori is feeling, but there’s sweat breaking out on his forehead, possibly from engaging his sensor ability to the extreme.

_“How?”_

Sensei’s lip twitches and she shrugs. She slowly brings her chakra signature back out, clamping down on a jerk as the momentary silence breaks with a cacophony of too many ringing signatures and blaring emotions. She adjusts her amplitude again until she’s the loudest and everyone else is quiet in comparison.

Kōmori looks like he wants to be sick.

“Orochi, where in the eight hells did you find this kid?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, Kōmori.” Sensei doesn’t deign to actually answer him.

“Tsunemori Honōka-desu.” She provides.

“…Tsunemori-ya, like the bathhouse?”

“Tsunemori, with kanji, actually.” She finger spells the characters. “Tsune, always; and mori, forest. Would you like me to spell Honōka for you as well?”

His brows creep up and the bags under his eyes look all the deeper for it. Sensei is mentally cackling.

“Orochi…this kid is either full of shit, or seriously has the heat to back what they’re packing, yeah?”

Uh-oh. She just committed some shinobi faux pas. She can definitely feel it.

Sensei fondly ruffles her hair, surprising her. He never does that in front of strangers?

“Honōka-kun, you made three major statements just now. Would you like me to inform you of which three you made?”

She nods, pretending very hard that she is not completely mortified.

“First, you declared an official spelling for your family name. Historically, that would be the same as declaring yourself a clan head. The more contemporary meaning is, more or less, to boast your ability as a shinobi.

“Second, you declared your name as a challenge to do battle. While I am sure Kōmori appreciates your vim, we are currently on a mission. Perhaps save it for another time?”

Her entire face turns red, and Sensei has to hide a face splitting grin behind his hand for a couple seconds.

“Thirdly, and I think this is the angle you were trying for; you insulted Kōmori’s intelligence by suggesting he could not read kanji.”

A moment of tense, awkward silence.

“She’s not going to apologize, is she?” Kōmori asks.

“Goodness no, what does she have to apologize for, you old bat?” Sensei thinks she was absolutely hilarious just now.

“You’re a slimy snake bastard and you shouldn’t be allowed anywhere near children.” Kōmori accuses. “Look at this one; I’m sure she was a nice, normal, kid before you got your hands on her.”

“That is debatable,” Sensei sniffs. She huffs.

Kōmori blows out a long sigh and rubs his forehead.

“Alright, alright. I’ll bite. Is this kid actually an S-rank sensor-nin? Can she really look across the border, preferably without being noticed?”

She nods. “Get me a big enough map, a compass, and a protractor and I’ll prove it.”

“Kid, you’re so old school you’re making me feel hip.”

Sensei pats her head again and _brags_. She can't say he never does that, but he doesn't brag thoughtlessly either. “She did learn everything she currently knows about sensor-nin from the Second Hokage’s personal journals.”

“Gods, have mercy. Do I need to set up a giant map on the ground somewhere?”

“One centimeter every half kilometer is fine if you don’t want to waste too much space.” She says.

“Gods, _this_ kid.”

By lunch, Kōmori has set up another tent where the whole floor has been manipulated with Earth Release to form a scaled map of the region. She kneels in the middle of it, scratching notes on it with a kunai.

Sensei sits on a stool nearby, fingers steepled in front of his mouth. Kōmori’s been drinking coffee straight from the pot for the last two hours. She grits her teeth. They’re both…anxious.

She stops on another spot and starts sorting signatures again. They’re a lot farther away than what she’s used to sensing for and expanding her sensory-field so far while using Shōkyo to make doubly sure no one notices her is frankly a lot. She rests her forehead on the ground to try and make her mental image stop shaking so much.

“Honōka-kun?” sudden concern.

She holds up a finger and continues sorting the jumbled mess. After another moment, she lifts her head off the ground and scrawls out an approximate number. Two hundred to two hundred fifty. That brings her total count to somewhere around…thirteen hundred?

She rolls over on her back. Her sensory-field snaps back and her ears ring.

“Sensei, everything’s spinning.” She sounds slurred. She feels like she might throw up.

“That would be chakra exhaustion, you daft child…!” He’s hovering over her, using the Mystical Palm Technique to check her. “Honōka-kun! You _reckless_ child—might I remind you your chakra ratio is one-to-one—just because you can use your maximum amount of chakra does not mean you should!”

“Oh, right,” she says. Her mouth taste funny. “You die when that happens…”

A flash of something nearly hysterical, then cooler, forced, levelheadedness.

“Chew this.”

Sensei shoves something smelly under her nose. She screws up her face at it. She thinks it might be a soldier pill. “Smells yuck,” she says. It doesn’t budge, and Sensei is nearly crushing her under the weight of his concern. She reluctantly opens her mouth and he drops the soldier pill in her mouth after tipping up her head. 

She chews, and it’s really not as bad as she thought. The spinning gradually stops. She blinks tiredly. Everything was kind of gray for a moment there. Sensei helps her up.

“Straight to bed,” he tells her.

“Eh…but, I’m not done—”

“You are done.”

“But—”

“You are done. Go back to the tent and go to sleep.”

“Sensei—”

“I will carry you,” he threatens.

She stops protesting. “Okay.”

He expects her to start walking, but she just waits. He sighs and picks her up.

“You are spoiled.”


	36. In the interest of not dying a very painful death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re serious. Fuck. Your kid _really_ is a monster.”
> 
> “Ah, don’t call her a demon though.” Minato warns. “She gets…weird about it.”
> 
> “Duly noted.” Kōmori clears his throat. “So, what _is_ the plan, my dear monsters?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for coarse language, suggestive language, and threats of bodily harm. No children were harmed in the making of this chapter.

His student is asleep in his arms before he even reaches the tent. Minato and Kakashi are inside discussing barrier seals—specifically which types would or would not affect Honōka and whether she could sense the types that are most likely to affect her.

They glance up without stalling their debate and then do a double take. Minato jumps up first.

“Chakra exhaustion?”

He nods. Kakashi grabs Honōka’s bedroll and spreads it out.

“Kakashi-kun, do you know how to treat moderate chakra exhaustion?”

“Food and rest, Orochimaru-sama.”

“And the symptoms for the sudden worsening of chakra exhaustion and related complications?”

“Shortness of breath, sweating, and shivering.”

“Indeed.” He lays his student down on her bedroll and Kakashi pulls the zipper up to her chin. “You are in charge until we return.”

“Yes, Orochimaru-sama…!”

He absently ruffles the boy’s hair and nearly cringes. He really is _staticky._

“Come, Minato. There’s been a change in plans.”

They leave the tent and Minato falls in step on his right side.

“…It’s bad, isn’t it?”

“If I were Hiruzen and knew what I know now, I would have at least ten platoons here—and another ten in reserve.”

“We don’t have that kind of manpower right now—tensions are high in the north with Kumo and in the east with Kiri. Not to mention the Land of Rivers is asking for aid against the Suna-nin sacking their border towns and ports.”

He scoffs. “Surrounded on all sides by conflict. It never ceases, no matter what the era.”

They reach the tent next to the Intelligence Division and Minato frowns at the recent addition.

He holds the flap aside and Minato enters ahead of him. Kōmori has found a new pot of coffee to sustain himself on and a red bean jelly bun.

“You put the little monster to bed, Orochi?” Kōmori grins at Minato. “And brought the half-grown monster out instead, eh?”

Minato shifts awkwardly.

“If Sakumo’s brat doesn’t turn out to be half the monster as these other two I’ll swallow my senbon.”

Orochimaru twirls a senbon between his fingers. “You can swallow mine if you prefer.”

Minato chokes, shooting him an alarmed look that’s just a bit horrified. Ah, yes, he thinks. Jiraiya taught him well. Sarcasm goes straight over the poor boy’s head, but he does not miss innuendos.

Kōmori snorts.

“We don’t have time for foreplay, Orochi. We’re about to get fucked by Iwa.”

Minato squeaks, and he rolls his eyes. Somehow, he is still ridiculously innocent.

“Don’t be so crass, Kōmori; you said it yourself, the boy is barely half-grown.”

“You started it, bastard.”

Minato desperately looks around for something to detract with, and lands on the map superimposed on the packed earth. His jaw drops.

“Honōka-chan…found all that…in a couple hours?!”

“Indeed.”

Minato pushes his hair back and holds his head. It is rather mind blowing.

“What are these big circles around the…enemy camps?”

“Sensory-fields.” Kōmori responds dully. “The little monster couldn’t tell whether they were from individuals or from sensor units, though. Not at this distance, at least.”

“Ha…” he continues studying the map, eyes darting. He points to Kannabi Bridge. “They’re probably aiming for that bridge. I would be.”

He nods. “It is the most direct supply route they could hope to establish, and Iwa-nin are nothing if not direct.”

“But, thirteen hundred?” Minato presses his lips into a thin line, then takes a deep breath. “Did Honōka-chan say if she was estimating up or down?”

He points to the numbers she wrote at each location. “Those are both her low estimates, and her high estimates. Thirteen hundred is the averaged total. And, knowing Honōka-kun, it is very nearly accurate.” Plus or minus fifty, most likely.

Minato nods.

“Sabotage is out then,” Minato gestures to the linear grouping. “There’s already a supply line—they’ll just pull resources from the back if we pick off the closest targets first.”

“Hit and run is out too,” Kōmori says. “With those numbers, it’d be like whacking a hornet nest.”

Orochimaru taps his foot on the largest camp. “They expect us to attack them eventually, and they are not ‘preparing’, they _are_ prepared.”

“Do you think Kusagakure is involved?”

“…I think it is more likely that the daimyō of the Land of Earth and the daimyō of the Land of grass are conspiring together to gain more land. Otherwise, Iwa would attempt to bring Kusagakure no Sato into the supply line.”

“What makes you say that, Orochi?”

“The document authorizing the mobilization of a four-man team into Kusa territory was signed by the daimyō but not Kusagakure’s village head.”

Minato groans.

“So, not only are they prepared for a large scale attack, they most likely know a meager four-man team is bound to be snooping around any day now.”

“…”

“What did the little monster mean when she said she wasn’t ‘done’ yet. It’s been bugging me.”

Minato looks at the map again and pales.

“She meant exactly what she said, Kōmori-san.”

“Yeah, and what the hell does it mean? I don’t speak monster like the rest of you.”

“Honōka-kun has only recently begun refining her distance viewing technique.” He explains. “It currently lacks elegance and pinpoint precision. She makes up for it by ‘tuning’ her frequency to resonate with the ambient environment. However, as she explained it to me, the ambiance differs region by region—especially in areas with greater numbers of shinobi. As she is incapable of ‘locking on’ to individual signatures from distances greater than twenty kilometers, she instead looks for areas with significant distortions to the natural ambiance and works backwards from there to determine the number of signatures causing the distortion.”

“So, if Honōka-chan said she wasn't done, most likely there were other disturbances in the region that she didn't get around to figuring out.”

Kōmori furrows his brows, deep-set eyes narrowing.

“Wait. _No.”_ He squints, thinking very hard. “She’s using Shōkyo to find people? That’s…that’s not how that technique works—that’s the exact fucking opposite of how it works! You’re shitting me. You’re shitting me, right?”

He crosses his arms, and Minato shakes his head once. Sadly, they are not.

Kōmori looks at his pot of coffee, no doubt wondering if he has somehow overdosed on caffeine and is hallucinating.

“You’re serious. Fuck. Your kid _really_ is a monster.”

“Ah, don’t call her a demon though.” Minato warns. “She gets…weird about it.”

“Duly noted.” Kōmori clears his throat. “So, what _is_ the plan, my dear monsters?”

Minato rubs his chin.

“Informing the Hokage should probably be priority number one, right? I mean, we’re two squadrons, barely a company strong. The nearest enemy camp is likely a full company strong with a mobile support unit.”

And there is issue number one, Orochimaru thinks.

He isn’t certain Hiruzen will make the logical decision to pull back and reshuffle the border priority. The Kumo and Kiri fronts might seem more important, but they’re currently busier squabbling with each other. They aren’t even actively picking a fight with Konoha, unlike Iwa.

In fact, he has a sinking feeling it wasn’t Sensei’s intention to send him to a highly volatile border at all. His track record at de-escalating tense situations is simply abysmal—a trait that Danzō has encouraged several times already.

“Orochi—”

He holds up one extended finger. Kōmori should really know better than to interrupt him when he’s thinking.

Assuming this is Danzō’s play, and not Sensei’s usual flippant planning, what is his goal? Given the nature of the experiment he is currently operating in Konoha, he would think Danzō would prefer him to be overseeing it personally. And he doubts he was aiming to separate him from his student—Honōka had done nothing to gain his attention until just before they left. Though, she was being watched…but Danzō watches most child prodigies…

He might be attempting to gain land or resources in a conflict with Kusa and Iwa, but the losses would be a major detriment to Konoha; something he doesn’t think Danzō would risk lightly. He lauds himself as Konoha’s shadow Hokage (a ridiculous notion in and of itself) and Root as Konoha’s unseen strength.

And why on earth would he think a four-man team would be a suitable force to route enemy camps?

…

Because it would be an acceptable loss—a Sannin, Konoha’s Yellow Flash, and two green child geniuses. He’s weeding out the competition.

“Son of a bitch!”

Kōmori sprays coffee on an already badly startled Minato.

“Minato, put that brain to use and figure out how we can win with the available resources!”

“O-Orochimaru-san?!”

“Kōmori, who knows about the current situation?”

“Just us, and your kid. No one’s been close enough to listen in, as far as I can tell.”

“Keep it that way.”

“Are you crazy? Thirteen hundred Iwa-nin, Orochi. _Thirteen hundred._ Let that sink in. Oh, and they could have the freaking Explosion Corps deployed too, because why not? And it only takes one of them fuckers to wipe a camp this size off the face of the planet.”

Orochimaru runs a pulse of chakra through his foot and erases the map without a trace.

“What the hell!? That map was kind of important!”

“Not an issue. Honōka-kun has an excellent memory. She rarely forgets anything.”

“That’s really not the fucking point!?”

“Sh!”

“Don’t ‘sh’ me!”

Kōmori takes an aggressive step towards him and Orochimaru lays the taller man out flat in a blur of motion. Then he tucks a loose strand of hair behind his ear and carefully plants his foot on Kōmori’s throat, applying the slightest pressure.

“Do not test me, Kōmori. You won’t _like_ what happens next.”

“Orochimaru-san…!” Minato hisses. There’s the faint sound of laughter outside.

No one breathes for a long moment. The laughter fades, and he spends another tense moment straining his senses. Minato lets out a shaky breath and Orochimaru is momentarily staggered—Minato, Jiraiya’s self-righteous student, is backing him up. Unquestionably.

“Well shit,” Kōmori breathes, throat bobbing under his foot. “This is really not how I imagined you going down on me.”

Minato gags and Orochimaru grins viciously, baring his fang-like teeth. 

Contrary to popular belief, they are not actually the result of self-experimentation; rather, they are natural and do not possess venom—which is another popular rumor. A rumor he may or may not have encouraged.

“Alright, alright. I don’t know _who_ you pissed off, or who pissed _you_ off, and I really hate pissing contests in general…but I digress. In the interest of not dying a very painful death, I’ll play nice with you monsters.”

Orochimaru roughly lifts his foot off his neck, eyes narrowed.

“Cross me and I will find you, Kōmori, and _gut_ you.”

“I know, believe me, I know.” He rubs his throat and slowly gets to his feet. “So, I make sure nobody knows Iwa has a literal army across the border that the Land of Grass is likely backing in some capacity until you and your monsters poke the anthill and inevitably get us all killed in a glorious bombing attack by the Explosion Corps. Yeah. Okay. At least it’s not the excruciating torture you had planned for me.”

“Kōmori-san,” Minato oh-so-pleadingly placates, hands clasped like a prayer. “There’s probably a really good explanation for Orochimaru-san’s behavior and we would really appreciate your help…”

“Oh, hell no—I’ll keep my mouth shut, but I ain’t helping!”

Minato turns his most pitiable expression on Kōmori and his eyes glisten. Orochimaru is fairly certain that particular effect was obtained with a bit of discreet nature manipulation. Either that, or the boy is actually a competent actor.

“No, _no,_ nope. It’s not working on me, kid. I’m a grown man—I don’t bend for crocodile tears.”

“Do it for Honōka-chan and Kakashi-kun! They’re too young to die…!”

“I’m pretty sure the mini monsters have a better chance of surviving this than I do—”

“Please, Kōmori-san! I would feel so much better if you were on our side!”

Kōmori doesn’t bend—he breaks.

“Gods dammit it. Fucking _whatever._ We all gotta die sometime, now’s as good a time as any. At least I won’t have to attend my sister’s wedding in the New Year. I fucking hate weddings.”


	37. ‘cough it up’

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Honōka wakes up. She feels stiff. Her mouth tastes terrible. And she really, _really,_ needs to pee.

Honōka dreams of Tomoe standing in the koi pond next to the Benten-sha on her family’s land.

She watches her former self wade into the water, pushing aside a budding lotus and scattering red, white, black, and gold koi fish. Her favorite dress, pale blue, floats on the surface of the pond, opening around her like a blooming morning glory.

The water ripples all around her and Tomoe leans over to scoop up a rare white—albino—snake from the pond. Her long black hair forms a curtain around her face and the snake, silky strands shining like oil on top of the water.

Honōka knows how this memory plays out. A lifetime ago she climbed into the nearly waist deep pool to save what she thought was a still living, still struggling, snake. What she pulled up was an albino rat snake, blood-red eyes clouded over in death.

She remembers showing her father the dead snake, how he clucked his tongue at it and told her to throw it out with the trash. She remembers putting it in an old shoe box and burying it behind Benzaiten-sama’s shrine instead. She remembers the bank calling constantly all spring; the long rainy season that never seemed to let up; and then a single shoe hitting the pavement. She remembers the bad luck that never really went away; an ill-fated karma that followed her from one life to the next, like a shadow.

Admittedly, mixing life with death might not have been the most respectful thing to do at a Shinto shrine. But, at the time, she thought she was returning Benzaiten-sama’s sacred messenger to her. And, in her defense, she thought snakes and Benten-sama could supposedly navigate the underworld, heaven, and earth.

Tomoe straightens and the rippling water stills around her. She turns to face Honōka’s vantage point, and Honōka feels the awareness of not just watching, but being physically present, sink in. She looks into the face that she can no longer recall and blinks.

It’s her face, but not; _shadow,_ but not. It's Tomoe’s face, but not; _light,_ but not.

Not-Tomoe holds her arm out, beckoning Honōka closer. The limp albino rat snake hangs over the other. Honōka takes a first step, then a second, and another. She steps onto the glassy surface of the pond and approaches her former self, cautiously.

Tomoe smiles at her and she recoils. Tomoe didn’t smile often, and never so…widely…or with quite so many teeth. She jumps back too slowly and the thing wearing Tomoe’s skin grabs her by the arm, long nails digging into her skin. She panics and struggles to pull away with all her might, which isn’t much. She feels like an ant trying to move a mountain.

They extend their other arm and the dead snake suddenly rolls over and coils around their arm to avoid falling back into the water.

Honōka stops and stares at the writhing, living, _breathing,_ snake. _It's alive!_ She thinks.

The immovable grip on her arm releases and she numbly steps back.

The thing wearing Tomoe’s skin doesn’t speak, just offers their arm out again. The arm with the snake coiled around their wrist and open palm.

“…Are you giving him to me?”

They crook a finger at her. Come closer and _see,_ they say.

She steps forward and offers her left hand to the snake. He flicks his tongue at her and sways his head uncertainly.

She looks into his eyes, red pupils on red irides, the self same red of her own eyes. He’s beautiful, she thinks; antique white scales and ruby red eyes.

She holds her breath and keeps her arm absolutely still.

A wind blows, and the snake shivers, finally deciding to crawl onto her arm. He’s cold to the touch from resting at the bottom of the pond for seven, nearly eight, years; and she is warm.

He coils in the crook of her arm, and she smiles at him, releasing her held breath. She carefully cradles him to her chest for extra warmth and looks up to thank Tomoe-but-not-Tomoe.

She’s gone.

The wind blows again, stronger this time. The leaves rustle and the branches creak noisily. She glances all around, looking for Tomoe; but it’s just herself, the snake, the pond, and the shrine.

“Thank you!” she calls over the wind. “I’ll take good care of him this time, I promise!”

Honōka wakes up. She feels stiff. Her mouth tastes terrible. And she really, _really,_ needs to pee.

She bolts upright and Kakashi dives out of the way to avoid being brained. He learned his lesson the first and only time she headbutted him—her head is much harder than his.

She throws opens her bedroll and pats around for her snake. She could have sworn she just had him…she checks her left arm for good measure, pulling off her arm guard with her teeth. She scans her bare arm.

He’s gone. She gets a panicky feeling in her chest and forces down worried tears. She promised…she promised…!

“Honōka-chan?” Minato asks, concerned.

“Toilet,” she utters and stands.

Kakashi moves to go with her, and she glowers at him.

“Right, sorry. My bad.” He sits back down. “Don’t fall in.”

She grunts at him and heads to the nearest outhouse. Obviously, she doesn’t fall in. She’s not a baby.

She washes her hands, face, and neck at the washing station and briefly considers detouring to the bathing tent, but she’s way too hungry for that, and Kakashi or Minato or both of them would come looking for her before long. She heads back to their tent.

Kakashi is already reheating left over miso soup and heavily congealed rice porridge. Minato cuts up an apple, taking the time to give each slice little rabbit ears. He's surprisingly good at it for someone who can’t cook.

She sits at the table and looks for Sensei. He’s not nearby. He’s not even _close_ to nearby.

She checks her chakra levels first (which are miraculously full) and expands her sensory-field until it’s just shy of interacting with the nearest enemy camp. Just the thought of using Shōkyo again so soon makes her feel nauseous.

Kakashi puts in front of her a bowl of miso soup, a bowl of rice porridge, and a whole grilled fish. Minato presents to her his ridiculously cute apple slices and a cup of plain tea.

“Why is Sensei in Kusagakure?”

Kakashi (gently) thwacks the back of her head.

“You’re not supposed to be using your chakra yet!” he scolds, pushing her soup closer. 

“Honōka-chan, you were out for two days with chakra exhaustion. Take it easy, okay?”

“I’m better now.” She sticks her tongue out at them. “So, what’s Sensei doing in Kusagakure no Sato?”

Minato scratches his head. “Well, you know. Reconnaissance and stuff.”

She gives him her best unimpressed look.

“Sensei’s getting reinforcements, isn’t he?”

“Duh,” Kakashi says. Minato sighs.

She scarfs down the food, glancing to the southwest again as she eats.

At this distance, she can just vaguely tell that Sensei is satisfied about something. In sharp contrast, the whole ambiance of Kusagakure feels…pissed off. She hums.

“What happened while I was asleep?”

“Do you want the full story or the abridged version?” Kakashi asks.

“Abridged, please.”

“The Child Snatcher probably screwed us over.”

Minato facepalms. She feels her eyebrow twitch.

“…not that abridged.”

Kakashi shrugs, and Minato carefully picks his words.

“Okay. For… _various reasons_ …Orochimaru-san expects we won’t be getting any reinforcements from Konoha, no matter how we plead our case. It’s also likely that the enemy knows a four-man team is going to attempt to route them. And, considering they’re prepared to fight an entire army, we clearly don’t stand a chance.”

“All of which can probably be blamed on the Child Snatcher.” Kakashi reiterates.

“…more or less, yeah.”

“So, Sensei is in Kusagakure trying to get them to rebel against the occupation of the Iwa forces.”

Minato scrubs his face and nods. She eats an apple slice.

“Kusagakure barely has a thousand active shinobi—”

Kakashi goes to smack her again and she bats his hand away.

“You’re not supposed to be using chakra!”

“I’m not! I learned that from class!”

“…Right.” He lowers his hand. “I knew that.”

She rolls her eyes at him. “I can’t sort out numbers that fast at this distance anyhow.” And it’s not for a lack of trying.

She takes a sip of her tea and listens to the border camp instead. Everything seems normal, except…

“Uwah. Kōmori-san is in a _mood.”_

Minato cringes. “Like, a Tenko-sama mood?”

She laughs. “Maybe if his chakra was exponentially larger—but no. I think it’s a combination of too much caffeine and…impatience? I think he yelled at one of the chūnin sensors too? Hm…there’s a word that describes him really well right now…upset…no, but it’s close…”

“Uptight?” Minato offers.

“That’s the one! Kōmori-san is being very uptight!”

Kakashi snorts. “I wonder why.”

She’s sensing a story there, but she has more important things to figure out.

“When’s Sensei coming back?”

“Tomorrow morning, most likely.” Minato answers truthfully.

“Eh, that’s like, fifteen hours from now.” She frowns. “What am I supposed to do until then?”

“You could rest, like you’re supposed to.” Kakashi ribs.

“But I’m not tired anymore and I have _questions.”_

Kakashi and Minato share a look.

“Why don’t we save the questions for Orochimaru-san and do something else like—”

“Light experimentation?” she says, hopeful.

“—play cards.” Minato finishes, lamely. “Kakashi, we brought cards, right? You shuffle and deal first.”

Kakashi finds a deck of cards and starts shuffling. He’s eye scowling at her.

“You guys are no fun. Sensei loves my experiments.”

They pointedly ignore her.

“Are we at least playing with stakes?”

“No. You count cards _and_ cheat.”

“You’re just mad you lost your lucky kunai last time.”

“You can’t even use it!”

“It’s lucky—I don’t need to use it for it to benefit me.”

Minato chuckles awkwardly. He lost his whole tool pouch to her last time they played with stakes. Apparently his custom made kunai aren’t cheap either, and she has _six._

“Okay,” she sighs. “What are we playing?”

“Old Maid.” Kakashi declares, removing a random face-down card. “You can’t cheat at Old Maid.”

“Fine. Loser buys me the special manjū set from Ichiban Manjū when we go home in December.”

“No _stakes,_ Honōka-chan.” Minato reminds her.

“If you win, I’ll give you back two of your custom kunai.”

“…three.”

She offers her hand out to shake and he reluctantly takes it.

Kakashi pounds the table a couple times. “If I win, you give me back my lucky kunai!”

She offers out her other hand to shake.

“And, if we both win, you take us out to lunch for the price of the special manjū set.”

Minato looks worried. “How much is this special manjū set worth, exactly?”

“Twenty-five hundred Ryō.”

“Twenty-five hundred Ryō! I could order two and a half Hiraishin kunai for the same price!”

Honōka laughs. “You can’t order half a kunai; but if you win, you get three back. Sounds fair, yeah?”

Minato side eyes Kakashi. “No hard feelings if you lose, right, Kakashi?”

“Sensei! We’re supposed to be a team! Just think, if we both win she has to buy us lunch, and we get our stuff back!”

“Sorry, Kakashi, I don’t think both of us can beat her—and Kushina’s home cooking is the only food I need.”

“Minato-sensei, you jerk!”

Twenty minutes later and the most intense game of Old Maid she’s ever participated in, she emerges victorious.

Kakashi and Minato stare at their unmatchable cards in confusion. Minato looks crushed.

“Honōka-chan…there’s only supposed to be one Old Maid…! Did you steal a card and rig the game in your favor?! How? When?” He throws down his card, the Queen of Clubs. He’s mad. 

Kakashi just looks regretful. 

“You’re not allowed to break games! The rules are sacrosanct!” Minato yells.

She cackles and jumps on the table, pointing at them haughtily, because they shook on it and they both lost. Now she gets to keep all their stuff and they both have to buy her the manjū special. Win, and win, and _win._

“Wouldn’t you like to know how I did it, Minato-san?” she taunts.

Kakashi, who was showing zero indication of planning a surprise attack, abruptly jumps on her and they go tumbling across the flimsy folding table. Naturally, the table breaks.

“Sensei! Now! Her feet are her only weakness! She’s insanely ticklish!” He wrestles her into a headlock. “Honōka, you’ll cough up the winning card if you know what’s good for you…!”

Crap! She took off her shoes while they were playing. She struggles to get free, but they’ve trapped her, holding her wriggly form down with their combined weight.

Minato lies across her knees and produces a calligraphy brush to tickle her feet with, because fūinjutsu-shi are never far from the tools of their trade.

Anyone with sensitive ears probably thinks she’s being murdered, which is probably why Kōmori comes to investigate.

He takes one look at the broken table and scattered cards and their strange torture methods and turns around again. 

_“Monsters,_ the lot of them.”

They dissolve into giggles.

“Alright, Honōka,” Kakashi pants. “Cough up the winning card. I want to know who gets back their kunai.”

She reaches for it and bursts out laughing again.

Kakashi narrows his eyes at her. “What’s so funny?”

“I lost it!”

Minato gets off her and starts picking up the cards. “Where? They’re all here…here’s my card, and Kakashi’s card…here’s the card we discarded at the beginning. So…you should have the Queen of Spades. Ha! I’m the other winner then! Kakashi, you’re the Old Maid!”

Kakashi groans and rolls over her, bony hips digging into her stomach as he does.

“Check the bottom of the table for the card, Sensei. She can stick it there with her spit.”

“Gross, Honōka-chan…! Modified bubble blowing jutsu?”

She holds a hand up, ‘so-so’.

The card isn’t there though. Minato says as much.

“I told you, I lost it.”

“Yeah, but where?”

She points at her lower dantian. Kakashi looks horrified.

“I know I said ‘cough it up’, but you actually swallowed it? What the heck is Orochimaru-sama teaching you?!”

She flicks one of her discarded shoes at him, which is ducked by Minato instead.

“Oh! She means she put it in her lower dantian, Kakashi—behind the nexus.” Minato considers. “You lost it though? Lost track of it?”

She nods.

“I was holding it, but then you guys attacked me and I forgot all about it. Now I have no idea where it went.”

They take a moment to digest that.

“Probably don’t put anything important in there that’s not directly attached to you in the future?”

“Good idea, Minato-san.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The shrine on her family's land from her previous life is dedicated to Benzaiten, also known as Benten. Benzaiten is a syncretic deity, which means she has both Buddhist and Shinto aspects. Her origins can be further traced back to the Hindu goddess Saraswati.
> 
> She's a goddess of everything that flows: water, time, words, music, and by extension, knowledge. She also uses white snakes and sometimes white foxes as messengers.


	38. “Would you like to try summoning a snake, Honōka-kun?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Don’t worry, Kōmori-san. Honōka is terrified of snakes.”
> 
> She punches Kakashi in the shoulder, hard.
> 
> “…!” he rubs his shoulder and glares at her. “What? It’s true. You made Genma remove the blue general in your bathroom and you freeze every time Orochimaru-sensei mentions Manda.”

She pounces on Sensei the moment he walks in the tent. Her assault is only partially successful, as he grabs her out of the air by the back of her shirt, one handed. He chuckles tiredly at her.

“I take it you have recovered some of your energy.”

“Yes, Sensei!”

He drops her and promptly kicks out his bedroll. She frowns.

“Sensei, I have _questions_ —”

“Will they keep until morning?”

“Yes, but—”

“Are they urgent?”

“Yes—”

“Do they concern the current state of affairs?”

“Well, no, but—”

“Then we will address them in the morning.”

“But, Sensei, it _is_ morning!” Roughly two o’clock in the morning, but still morning.

“…Honōka-kun.” Sensei warns. “I carry a nonlethal paralytic on my person at all times. Do not make me use it on you.”

She gasps at him. 

“You wouldn’t!”

Kakashi’s balled up arm warmer socks her in the back of the head, deceptively heavy for its overall appearance.

“Honōka, I will smother you if you don’t shut up…!”

“Sensei! Do you see how Kakashi-senpai treats me?”

Sensei hums.

“Kakashi-kun, if you would, please.”

Kakashi sits up with a long-suffering sigh and cracks his knuckles. Honōka dives into her bedroll.

“Goodnight, Sensei! Goodnight, Kakashi!”

“That’s what I thought.” Kakashi grumbles, lying back down.

Honōka pouts. Minato snorts in his sleep and scratches his nose. She thinks it’s going to be a very long night. She burrows into her bedroll and closes her eyes.

When she opens her eyes again, she’s alone in the tent. Someone (probably Kakashi) has left out a covered tray of breakfast for her.

She screws up her mouth and locks onto Sensei and her traitorous teammates. They’re with Kōmori, so she screeches her chakra signature at him. He responds in Shinobi Standard Tap Code, and she laughs out loud. He called her a monster again.

She hauls on her shoes and flickers over to the tent they set up for her map, which has vanished.

“Good morning, littlest monster.” Kōmori dryly greets.

She points to Kakashi. “He’s younger than me.”

“By three months,” Kakashi snorts. “And he said ‘littlest’, not youngest.”

“I’m also heavier than him,” she informs Kōmori.

“Since when?!”

She doesn’t answer him. Kōmori rolls his eyes at them both.

“Alright, good morning, _second_ littlest monster.”

She nods, satisfied with that. “Good morning, Kōmori-san.”

Sensei glances at her, unimpressed with her interruption, and she mimes zipping her lips.

“As I was saying—Kusagakure no Sato is amenable to participating in the routing of the Iwa forces, provided that we assist them in the process and depose the current daimyō of the Land of Grass.”

“They’re not happy with their daimyō, are they?” she asks. “I felt something like anger coming from Kusagakure even before you went to them, and it’s only gotten stronger since.”

Sensei nods. “The economy of Kusa is in shambles because of the current daimyō. His spending habits are frankly deplorable and his reputation is equally so. He allegedly allows war refugees into the country in exchange for unpaid labor for an indeterminate amount of time. Where those refugees end up after is anyone’s guess at this point.”

“That’s exploitation.” And probably a crime against humanity, if such a thing existed here.

“Indeed, Honōka-kun.” Sensei fixes her with a measuring stare. He hardly uses it on her these days, as he seems to have mostly accepted that she’s unpredictable at best, random at worst. “Is that enough to justify assassinating the daimyō of another land?”

“When is it ever justifiable to take another person’s life?” she counters. “It never is, but it’s also unjustifiable to stand aside as the lives of hundreds are ruined by one person.”

She feels a spark of irritation from Sensei—likely over the issue with her father. He doesn’t understand how she can casually accept the assassination of a prominent political figure, but not the same for her father.

“'No man is lesser or greater than any other, for one life is equal to another. Whether the deeds are great or small, one man is just one man, and the greatest accomplishments in life will always be those that are attained by many.'”

She is met with dumbfounded silence.

Kōmori recovers first. He clears his throat and gestures at her.

“She just quoted the First Hokage.”

Minato numbly nods, and Kakashi looks confused. Sensei crosses his arms at her, attempting to puzzle out what she could possibly be trying to convey with such a quote.

“I think, if one person jeopardizes the lives of others or usurps their freedoms, it becomes our responsibility—as shinobi—to fight. Ultimately, we bear the burden for taking the lives of others, hoping our actions mean many more survive.”

Kōmori blows out a long breath.

“Orochi, your kid scares the hell out of me.” He shakes his head slowly. “She quotes the First and emulates the Second. Please tell me she hasn’t caught Sandaime-sama’s attention, too.”

She grins at Sensei. Should she tell Kōmori she has tea with him every other week?

Then it hits her that Sensei feels distinctly pleased, and it nearly knocks the wind out of her. Because she’s felt him and others be impressed by her abilities and words, astounded, awed, sometimes jealous or even envious—but no one has ever been _pleased_ with her before. 

Sensei reaches out to pet her head and she leans into the touch, basking in his praise.

“Gods, that’s weird.” Kōmori interrupts with an exaggerated shiver. “Orochimaru, being affectionate? It’s like snow in Suna—it don’t look right.”

She sticks her tongue out at Kōmori.

“You’re just jealous.”

Minato chokes on a laugh that dissolves into a wheezing fit of coughing. She frowns. She didn’t think it was that funny? But even Sensei finds it funny and is hiding his smile behind one hand. Kōmori feels oddly embarrassed.

She looks at Kakashi, who just shrugs. He doesn’t get it either.

“Sensei, my questions?”

He chuckles and messes up her hair with a rough pat—which actually is funny, to her at least. He’s always haranguing her about keeping her hair neat and respectable, and yet it’s okay for him to make it messy. She pouts at him.

“Very well, it is _now_ morning, after all.”

“It was morning earlier, too,” she insists.

“Honōka-kun, that is a debate you will not win.”

“Fine,” she’s right, but whatever. “I have questions about Kuchiyose no Jutsu. I tried asking Kakashi, since he has Pakkun already, but he’s a jerk and won’t tell me anything.”

Sensei takes a seat and she sits on the ground in front of him. His lip twitches like he’s trying very hard not to smile.

“The Hatake Clan are rather **_dog_** ged about maintaining the secrecy of their summoning contract, Honōka-kun. It isn’t polite to _hound_ Kakashi-kun about it.”

Her jaw drops and she can’t help the startled laugh that comes out.

“Sensei! You made a pun, two puns!”

Kakashi sits next to her and gives Sensei a rather unimpressive glower. He thought it was funny too.

“I need a nap.” Kōmori announces. “Someone wake me up when things go back to normal around here.”

“So…never?” Minato remarks.

Kōmori pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Just…someone come get me when we’re ready to talk murder and war again? I need a break from all you monsters.”

Honōka waves. “Have a nice nap, Kōmori-san.”

“Yeah, yeah. Please don’t summon any giant snakes while I’m asleep.”

“Don’t worry, Kōmori-san. Honōka is terrified of snakes.”

She punches Kakashi in the shoulder, hard.

“…!” he rubs his shoulder and glares at her. “What? It’s true. You made Genma remove the blue general in your bathroom and you freeze every time Orochimaru-sensei mentions Manda.”

Kōmori laughs and walks out the tent, cackling as he goes.

She blushes.

“Um…Honōka-chan, you’re aware that Orochimaru-san has a summoning contract with snakes, right?”

“Obviously, Sensei.” Kakashi scoffs at him for even asking. “Orochimaru-sensei threatens us regularly with stories about Manda eating people.”

“Orochimaru-san…!” Minato fixes Sensei with a disappointed look. “That’s cruel, they’re just children!”

“Please, it’s not like Jiraiya didn’t threaten to summon Gamabunta to sit on you when _you_ couldn’t keep still.”

Minato flushes and Honōka perks up, interested. Sensei rarely speaks so…casually.

“Sensei, you knew Minato when he was younger-younger?”

 _“Younger-younger?”_ Minato mouths.

“Unfortunately.” Sensei says, wry. “You have no idea how many times I had to chase him from the lab.”

She laughs, delighted. Minato as a kid sounded like a handful.

“…Is it true that you are afraid of snakes, Honōka-kun?” Sensei asks. He feels a bit apprehensive, like he’s asking her if she’s afraid of _him_ and not snakes in general.

She guiltily raises her hand and gestures. Sensei sighs.

“You either are, or you are not. Which is it?”

“…I once found a dead shirohebi in a koi pond.” She admits. “It was a _really_ bad omen, and I thought I might have been cursed by it.”

Sensei’s eyes widen in surprise, and there’s a deluge of emotion that feels faintly wistful, nostalgic, even. But there’s also understanding. 

“That _is_ a very bad omen.” He agrees.

“Ah, but I had a dream when I was recovering from chakra exhaustion, so I think I’m okay now.”

“A dream?”

“It was really weird—I was at a Benten-sha.” There’s actually a Benten-sha in the Steam District near Tsunemori-ya. She went to great lengths to avoid it when she still lived there. “And I saw myself picking the snake out of the koi pond. I thought it would be dead like it was in my memory, but then I offered it out to myself and it came alive again.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Minato asks. “You picked it up and gave it to yourself?”

She scowls at him.

“There were two me’s. Me-me and not-me.”

Kakashi leans away from her. “Two Honōka? I can barely stand one.”

“Haha, very funny, Kakashi.” She goes to sock him in the shoulder again and Sensei plucks her wrist out of the air mid swing.

“Where did _this_ come from?”

He turns her left arm over, palm up. She forgot to put her arm brace back on after taking it off yesterday, and the mesh armor Mitsuha-obā-chan made her only covers three quarters of her arms.

She squints. That wasn’t there when she checked it before. Sensei rolls her wire armor back to the crook of her elbow to examine it.

It’s a looping scar-white mark, coiled three times around her arm. He flips her hand over, knuckles up. Just before her wrist bone is an abstract shape in the same scar-white that looks a bit like a snake’s head. A blood red squiggle and dot rests in the framed forehead area.

Sensei pull up his left sleeve, revealing a nearly identical mark in black—a tattoo. Cool! She didn’t know Sensei had any tattoos.

Minato and Kakashi are gawking at the similarity between the marks, while Sensei silently considers many things. He rubs his thumb over the white mark and frowns. It’s neither raised nor indented and feels no different from the skin next to it.

“When did this mark appear?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“Orochimaru-san,” Minato whispers, like he thinks she won’t hear him. “She woke up in a panic yesterday—like she was frantically looking for something. I remember her pulling off her arm guard and checking this arm, but there was no mark then.”

“I thought I lost my snake,”

Sensei raises an eyebrow at her.

 _“Your_ snake?”

She shrugs again. “They gave him to me, the other me, so he’s mine.”

Kakashi slides her a dubious look.

“Has anyone ever told you that you sometimes sound crazy?”

“Obito, all the time.”

“Maa…I'm starting to agree with him.”

She ignores him.

“Oh, I did notice something weird when I woke up! My chakra exhaustion was completely gone.”

“You have been awfully _energetic_ for a child who nearly killed herself with chakra exhaustion…” Sensei murmurs. He forms the signs for the mystic palm technique with one hand and scans her arm and then her chest. She sits still.

“…”

“Orochimaru-san?” Minato asks, worried.

“A miraculous recovery,” he says simply. The mystic palm technique dissipates and he studies her mark again. He’s burning with curiosity now. “And a mysterious mark.”

“It’s not that mysterious; you have one just like it.” She points out.

“And do you know what it is?”

“No, but you do, Sensei.”

He shakes his head at her, fondly.

“Indeed, I do. It is a simplified jutsu-shiki; the technique formula for summoning snakes from Ryūchi Cave. And it took me _years_ to convince the White Snake Sage to give me this simplified formula.”

Minato looks startled.

“It just appeared on Honōka-chan’s arm? Without signing the summoning contract first?”

“So it would seem.”

“…is it valid though?”

Sensei considers.

“Would you like to try summoning a snake, Honōka-kun?”

“!?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A blue general is a Japanese rat snake, also known as aodaishō. Shirohebi are albino rat snakes and are sacred symbols of good fortune, associated with Benzaiten. It's extremely lucky to find one alive, and a herald of misfortune to find one dead.


	39. five stages of grief in a brief moment.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Manda drops his great head onto the near decimated battleground and his tongue flicks out, catching the air near Orochimaru.
> 
> **“…You’ve changed, Orochimaru. I don’t know what it is, but I can taste it on you.”**

She gawps like a fish, and Minato clears his throat.

“Is that…wise, Orochimaru-san?”

Sensei shrugs—he shrugs!

“The formula is simplified and specific. Only a snake from Ryūchi Cave will respond. And, as there are no hand seals required for the summoning, there is no risk of Honōka-kun being reverse summoned by another compatible domain.”

“I suppose that’s true…and it might not even work—she hasn’t signed the summoning contract, right?”

“She has not.” Sensei replies. “The snakes keep their contract under lock and key at Ryūchi Cave. They expect potential summoners to seek the cave out on their own power.”

Minato relaxes.

“Oh, I see. If that’s the case, I doubt anything will happen if Honōka-chan tries to activate the jutsu-shiki. It’s probably meant to be an invitation to come find them, or something like that.”

Kakashi doesn’t look convinced. He turns to her and shakes her by the shoulders a couple times.

“Don’t summon a giant one, or a venomous one, or a weird one, or a—”

She shoves Kakashi away.

“Okay, Okay! I’ll try to summon a totally _normal_ , nonlethal, one!”

Sensei chuckles, and Kakashi turns pleading eyes on her.

“Do _not_ summon Manda, Honōka, I’m begging you here.”

“Honōka-kun does not yet have the necessary chakra reserves to summon Manda, Kakashi-kun.”

Kakashi still doesn’t look convinced.

She looks at the mark, then at her sensei. He’s waiting patiently for her to decide if she really wants to try summoning a snake.

“…Kakashi uses hand seals and blood to summon Pakkun…so the hand seals dictate the technique formula, and Kakashi’s blood is the catalyst that calls his summons to him. Since I have the jutsu-shiki already, I just have to activate it with my blood?”

“That would be correct.” Sensei thinks her hesitation is just the littlest bit endearing. “Would you like a demonstration first?”

She shakes her head. Knowing Sensei, he might summon a really scary snake just to see her reaction. She doesn’t want to chicken out before she even tries.

Honōka considers biting her thumb like she’s seen Minato do for his toads, but she’s currently missing most of her incisors because she’s seven years old and no one ever told Kakashi it’s rude to punch a lady in the face. She decides against it—it would totally lack dignity.

She takes Kakashi’s lucky kunai out of her back tool pouch and taunts him with a wink. He gives her a dirty look for it.

Honōka sticks her thumb on the wicked sharp point and puts the kunai away again, then takes a deep breath and smears the blood across the coils of the mark.

She has a promise to keep; she thinks.

Honōka disappears in a crack of smoke.

There’s absolute silence as Kakashi watches his teachers go through the five stages of grief in a brief moment.

Denial in a dead-eyed stare from them both; anger in a couple rapid blinks from Orochimaru-sensei; bargaining as Minato-sensei looks up at the heavens through the layers of tarp above them; depression as they simultaneously sigh.

Finally, acceptance.

“I’m not even surprised anymore.” Minato-sensei says.

“We should call Honōka the jutsu-crusher,” he votes.

Orochimaru-sensei closes his eyes and exhales through his nose. “I suppose I should go make sure no one eats her.”

“E-eats her?!” Sensei staggers. “They would eat Honōka-chan?!”

Orochimaru-sensei doesn’t respond, just bites his thumb and draws a line down his summoning tattoo.

A small…ish snake appears. The yellow and red spotted serpent is longer than Kakashi is tall, but is only a little thicker than his forearm, so it probably can’t eat him. He hopes.

Orochimaru-sensei frowns at the snake, which means it’s safe to assume it’s not who he was expecting to summon, or what he was expecting to happen.

“Jorō,” he greets, crisply. “I do believe Daitenja-sama gave me permission to ‘come and go’ as I pleased.”

The snake flicks their tongue and coils their body a little tighter. Kakashi isn’t familiar with snake body language—but he’s willing to bet the snake is nervous. Pakkun shrinks up when something frightens him, too.

“Daitenja-sama is not accepting any more visitors today.”

The snake’s voice is young and startlingly feminine. Orochimaru kneels in front of her, and Kakashi can practically smell the killing intent coming off him.

“Would you care to repeat that, Jorō?”

“…Daitenja-sama is not accepting any more visitors today…?”

“Am I a ‘visitor’, Jorō?”

“N-no, Orochimaru-sama, of course not!”

“What do you think will happen if I request another reverse summons, Jorō?”

“…” the snake hides her face in her coils. “…no one will answer, probably…”

Orochimaru grabs her by the…tail? And she flips over, belly up. Submitting? Playing dead? He isn’t sure.

“Now, now, Jorō—enough with the theatrics. Take me to Ryūchi Cave.”

Big tears well up in her round eyes, which Kakashi is certain are from a genjutsu. He doesn’t break the illusion, though—it seems kind of heartless to. She’s clearly distressed, and he doesn’t think snakes can make many facial expressions on their own.

Then her tongue rolls out of her mouth and x’s appear in her eyes. Kakashi has to turn away to quell his laughter. Minato-sensei elbows him and gives him a stern look.

“Jorō, have I ever told you about the aviary in Konoha? It is _absolutely_ filled with hawks.”

He leaves the threat hanging in the air for a moment.

“I will feed you to them, Jorō, piece by piece.”

“…Oo-o-Orochimaru-saamaaa!” Jorō cries. “I can’t! Daitenja-sama will have my scales!”

He stands and Jorō clings to his arm. Her mouth is open and she’s silently panting, her body expanding and contracting as she shimmies her coils up Orochimaru-sensei’s arm.

“If you do not take me to Ryūchi Cave, the hawks will have your flesh.”

“…Mou! I give up, I give up! I hope Daitenja-sama swallows you whole!”

There’s another pop of smoke and Orochimaru-sensei and the snake disappear.

Minato-sensei’s shoulders drop and he lets out a small sigh of relief.

“Thank goodness I ended up with Jiraiya-sensei and the toad summoning contract. No one tries to eat you at Mount Myōboku.” Sensei pauses. “They try to make you eat bugs though.”

“Sensei, that’s gross.” Kakashi thanks his unlucky stars that he has the dog summoning contract already. They have a loyalty clause. 

“I think it’s preferable to whatever craziness goes on at Ryūchi Cave.” Minato shivers and rubs his arms. “Jiraiya-sensei told me Orochimaru-san stayed there for an entire month when he was twelve and that he was _different_ when he came back.”

“…”

“You don’t suppose Honōka-chan will be different when she comes back?” Minato-sensei asks, worrying his thumb.

Kakashi snorts.

“I think Ryūchi Cave will be different when Honōka is finished with _them.”_

“Oh, good point, Kakashi.” Minato-sensei rubs his sweaty palms on his pants. “What am I even worrying for? Honōka-chan managed to change Orochimaru-san after all.” He laughs nervously and shifts awkwardly.

“…”

“Kakashi, I’m still worried about Honōka-chan.”

He pats Minato-sensei on the arm.

“Me too, Sensei. Me too.”

Orochimaru arrives outside Ryūchi Cave. He glares at Jorō, who immediately drops off his arm and slithers away to find a bolt-hole. He scoffs at her.

A huge tongue whips at him, razor sharp and faster than the blink of an eye. He flickers away as Manda raises his head, earth toned camouflage dissipating to reveal his purple and black ringed snake hide.

**“Orochimaru, you little bastard! You dare show your face here now? I’ll bite you in half!”**

“I do not have time for your nonsense, Manda. Let me through.”

Manda opens his colossal mouth and sprays his venom. 

He tsks and channels chakra to his eyes, activating his snake lens technique. Fighting giant snakes while needing to blink or shy away from potentially blinding venom is unadvisable. So he doesn’t blink or balk from the venom—he adapts by gaining the eye scales so integral to his summons.

Manda lifts his head higher, stabilizing his massive body with his tail. He’s preparing to either thrash the surroundings, or possibly feinting and planning on diving underground. He won’t give him time for either option.

He sucks in a great lungful of breath and weaves the seals for Wind Release: Great Breakthrough, then releases a devastating gale that rips the trees from the ground and rends rock into pieces. The debris pelts Manda as the wind tumbles him like a scrap of cloth.

Manda is blown back only a couple hundred meters, but the uprooted trees and boulders have done damage as well. His scales are cracked and bleeding, in places and he seems to have been dazed.

He turns and heads for the entrance to the caves.

 **“Orochimaru…!”** Manda heaves himself over until he finds stability again. **“I’m not done with you, you little bastard!”**

He glares at Manda, sharpening his displeasure at the so called ‘Strongest Colossal Serpent’.

“I told you, Manda—I do not have time for your nonsense. We are finished.”

**“…!”**

He turns again and the ground trembles as Manda clumsily sidewinds over the destruction.

**“I ain’t done!”**

He lets his killing intent surface, briefly.

“Manda, I will put you in the ground if you keep trying my patience. I have more important matters to attend to than quarreling with you right now.”

 **“Like what?!”** Manda hisses, offended that not everything is about him, no doubt.

“Finding my student, if you must know. Now, if you are quite done, I am going to speak with Daitenja-sama.” And give them a piece of his mind while he’s at it.

**“No, you can’t!”**

Orochimaru pauses.

“Why can I not, Manda? _You_ cannot stop me from speaking with the White Snake Sage and finding my student.”

Manda drops his great head onto the near decimated battleground and his tongue flicks out, catching the air near Orochimaru.

**“…You’ve changed, Orochimaru. I don’t know what it is, but I can taste it on you.”**

He rolls his eyes and turns on his heel. Manda’s tongue lashes out, once again blocking his way.

**“Daitenja-sama is in dialogue with the hatchling. They told us to delay you for as long as possible.”**

“…Remove your tongue, Manda, or I _will_.”

He smartly withdraws his tongue, and the way is finally clear.

**“It’s a good change, whatever it is. Reminds me of when _you_ were a hatchling.”**

He snorts.

“Manda, you are as charming as a stone in my shoe.”

**“Fuck off, Orochimaru. You know I don’t understand your worthless human metaphors.”**

It’s a simile but he doesn’t correct him. Manda has waylaid him long enough.


	40. only a little bruised

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Honōka thinks of who she might have become if she was not first Tachibana Tomoe. Would she still have met Sensei and Minato and Kakashi and the rest of her friends? Would she, a civilian, have approached the eccentric Might Duy and passed the Academy exam? She doesn’t know.

Darkness explodes around her and she drops weightlessly through the cracks between space and time. She falls swiftly, even as everything around her slows to a crawl. Honōka twists and turns, frantically searching for something to grab onto, but she’s blind and in total darkness.

She abruptly falls through an equally blinding white light and spills back into the world like a shadow cast by candlelight.

Her momentum carries her off her feet and she rolls head over heels down a slippery stone cavern. She guards her face and slows herself by attempting to stick to the slick surface with each part of her body that makes contact.

She finally stops and allows herself a moment to recover. She’s not hurt bad, just a couple scrapes and bruises—nothing broken at least.

A gravelly chuckle reverberates all around her and she immediately springs up, blinking rapidly to focus her still spinning vision.

**“That was quite the entrance, little hatchling. The lacking grace of you four-legged creatures never ceases to amuse me.”**

The faint luminescence in the cavernous space she finds herself in is just enough to see by. Her jaw drops.

“Are you Benzaiten-sama?”

The absolutely massive shirohebi cackles and the booming sound goes right through Honōka's skull despite her covering her ears to dampen the noise. A couple stalactites drop from the ceiling so far above her but luckily do not fall anywhere near her.

 **“No, little hatchling, I am not Benten-sama.”** Another husky laugh, this one oddly melancholic. **“The gods of this land perished a long time ago.”**

“They died?” she asks. “All of them?”

**“Indeed. Only their messengers remain, though for how much longer I cannot say.”**

Honōka looks up at the unusual shirohebi and her chest aches.

“Are you Benzaiten-sama’s messenger?”

**“…I was.”**

Honōka can’t help herself. She cries.

**“Little hatchling, you must separate yourself from the influences of my spirit—humans are not meant to comprehend the weight of a life lived many times over.”**

She continues crying, scrubbing at her face to wipe away the tears that just won’t stop.

**“Oh dear. I thought as much.”**

There’s a sound like stone cracking and the great white snake slides their body off the massive dais upon which they rested. Petrified scales and unshed skin cracks and falls from their body, smashing like fine china on the cave floor.

An unexpectedly soft tongue brushes her face, just the tips of each fork erasing her tear tracks.

**“It is as though you have been trapped in a shed that is much too tight and your spirit is ready to burst forth, but your next skin is still too soft.”**

Honōka sniffles. The great snake is close enough that she can see every detail of herself reflected in their huge yellow eyes. Eyes that are the same color and shape as her sensei’s.

**“Little hatchling, I foresaw your arrival, but I know not your name.”**

“Tsunemori Honōka-desu.”

**“I am Daitenja, the White Snake Sage.”**

Honōka bows and the White Snake Sage rumbles gently at her, a twinge of good humor coloring their mood.

**“Little hatchlings have no reason to bow to me.”**

She straightens, and Daitenja slowly retreats to their stone dais.

“Daitenja-sama, you said you foresaw my arrival? When?”

**“Hm, I wonder. I am not so great with numbers, especially when they involve the passage of time.”**

“Oh, well, I guess when doesn’t really matter anyhow. I’m here now.”

Daitenja flicks their tongue in a smiling kind of way.

**“Indeed. You are before me now, both as I expected and yet not _how_ I expected.”**

She tilts her head and waits for clarification.

**“Some years ago, I had a vision that a human hatchling would appear before me; cold, hungry, decorated in hurt, and so _angry_ with the world. That version of you would have come to me seeking the power to poison the seas and the skies—to punish the people who had wrought you.**

**“Some years later, I again had a vision that a human hatchling would appear before me; warm, fed, and well loved. Yet this hatchling also knew the pain of the world, perhaps even better than the first. This version of you is before me now, seeking power that is no longer mine to give.”**

Honōka thinks of who she might have become if she was not first Tachibana Tomoe. Would she still have met Sensei and Minato and Kakashi and the rest of her friends? Would she, a civilian, have approached the eccentric Might Duy and passed the Academy exam? She doesn’t know.

“Daitenja-sama, I’m not here asking for power. I’m actually looking for someone I lost about eight years ago.”

**“…Eight years ago…?”**

“Ah, sorry, I know you said you aren’t great with numbers—”

Daitenja flicks their tongue with a sharp crack in the air, and Honōka shuts up. The gesture reminds her of Sensei, holding one elegantly extended finger up for silence. 

**“Almost eight years ago,”** Daitenja drawls. **“Seven years and two seasons ago?”**

“Yeah! On the spring equinox exactly, if that helps?”

Daitenja’s head lifts straight up and they open their mouth in elated surprise. Their strange headdress nearly falls over from the sudden movement.

**“What a fantastic coincidence! Or perhaps not a coincidence at all, but a twist of fate!”**

Before she can ask what Daitenja means, the ground shakes and there are distant echoing screams that sound suspiciously like another great serpent hissing out Sensei’s name.

Daitenja chuckles.

**“That stripling Orochimaru just can’t resist putting his nose where it isn’t wanted.”**

The ground shakes again and Daitenja huffs.

**“Honestly. I ban him for one day and he storms the place in a right fit. He and Manda are two of a kind.”**

“Um, Orochimaru is my sensei,”

Daitenja balks.

**“That arrogant half-rotten slug is your sensei?”**

Honōka frowns. She won’t deny Sensei being arrogant, but he’s not some half-rotten egg. She worked really hard to force out the stagnating chi in his lower dantian. He’s only a _little_ bruised now, like a wind-fallen tachibana orange.

“He’s probably looking for me because I suddenly disappeared.”

 **“Sage have mercy—the stripling probably thinks I’ve stolen you!”** Daitenja cackles.

She doesn’t point out that they kind of did.

Sensei appears in a flicker, and she barely gets a greeting out before he’s picked her up by the back of her shirt. She’s glad the navy shinobi tees and tanks she buys are so sturdy.

“We are leaving.”

“What? Wait! Daitenja-sama and I are talking, Sensei. Don’t be rude!”

He lifts her to eye level, and his eyes really are eerily similar to the White Snake Sage’s.

“You. Talking with Daitenja-sama. About _what?”_

Oh, wow. He’s like… _really_ stressed out. He tore down here in a dead sprint too. You’d swear he thought Daitenja-sama was going to eat her or something.

Daitenja chuckles in that gravelly way of theirs.

**“Oh, it was nothing important, stripling. I was just considering having her sign the contract.”**

“Just _considering?”_ Sensei feels offended on her behalf. He seems to think there’s nothing to consider.

**“Indeed, but the little hatchling has kept a certain someone waiting in suspense for a very long time. I suggest she go meet him now and sign the contract after.”**

Sensei is warily confused, but Honōka lights up.

“He’s here? Where?!”

 **“He has been waiting for you this entire time at Benten-sama’s spring.”** Daitenja flicks their tongue. **“The stripling knows where it is. He can take you there.”**

She wriggles, and Sensei drops her. She grabs his hand and digs her heels in, pulling on him with all her might. He doesn’t budge.

“Come on, Sensei! We’re going to Benten-sama’s spring, right now!”

She’s never felt Sensei be so confused before. He’s nearly in a state of shock.

**“Go on, stripling. The little hatchling has a very important first meeting, and I must summon my attendants to present the contract.”**

Sensei reluctantly tears himself away from his circling thoughts. He pulls her into a side along shunshin and they move deeper into the cave.

He slows to a walk after a couple hundred meters.

“How on _earth_ did you charm Daitenja-sama?”

She grins up at him. “The same way I charmed you!”

Sensei takes a deep breath and pushes his hair back. It falls back into his face after a quick shake.

“Did Daitenja-sama tell you what a first meeting is?”

She shakes her head. It did sound kind of important, though.

“It is exactly what it sounds like, a meeting. But there is more to it than that. A first meeting is the establishment of a lifelong partnership with one of the Ryūchi Cave snakes and will determine where you fall on the hierarchy; who will respond to your summons, who will or will not obey you…”

“Sensei, who was your first meeting with?”

“Manda. He is the largest snake in Ryūchi Cave. I had to beat him into submission to make him accept me as his first meeting. It took three days and nights. I was nine years old.”

“Sensei, you’re amazing!”

He chuckles dryly. He doesn’t feel too amazing at the moment.

“Honōka-kun—you should not have let Daitenja-sama dictate your first meeting. They could be setting you up for failure, either with an opponent that you cannot handle, or one they consider weak. Either outcome could limit your summoning potential going forward.”

She points to her mark. “I already met him, though. It would be rude to keep him waiting any longer.”

“Child, dealing with you is an exercise in patience.”

She pouts and pulls on his hand. “And you’re moving too slow!”

Sensei intentionally drags his feet after that, and she gives him _the look_ , which he pointedly ignores. They continue walking for some time.

Then she feels a presence that she _knows_ at the edge of her sensory-field and let’s go of his hand. She runs. Sensei reluctantly keeps pace.

The luminescence increases tenfold as they turn a bend, arriving in another enormous cavern.

The source of the light is a large pool of crystal clear water, fed by a sculpture of a huge marble dragon with eyes made from jade orbs wider than she is tall. 

And in the center of the water is a Benten-sha painted a brilliant shade of crimson red. Where her family’s shrine had an offering box is instead a wooden dais, and on the dais is a coiled albino rat snake.

Two red eyed gazes, as similar as they are different, meet across the water. Where hers are blue like the reflection of the sky on water, his are the color of the setting sun after a storm has passed.

There’s no bridge to the Benten-sha, not that she needs one. Honōka walks across the mysteriously glowing water and Sensei stays on the stone bank. He’s still apprehensive, but first meetings seem to be sacred and he grudgingly respects that.

She reaches the shrine and _her_ snake flicks his tongue at her.

“You are much smaller than I remember.” He says, voice light and airy.

“You’re a lot bigger than _I_ remember.” She tosses back, grinning.

He flicks his tongue like a smile.

“I suppose so, we _did_ both shed our old skins.”

She laughs. That’s one way of putting it.

“What do I call you here, Mikogami?”

She freezes. How…? No, it doesn’t matter anymore.

“Tsunemori Honōka-desu.”

“Honōka-sama.”

She frowns at him.

“Just Honōka is fine.”

“Honōka-sama.” He repeats. “You may call me as you see fit; for my mother, the venerable Hakuja Sennin, Daitenja-sama, has given you the honor of bequeathing me my first name.”

Dear gods, he’s stiff! It’s going to take serious work to break him from that overly formal demeanor!

More importantly, he’s asking her for a name. She’s never named another living being before.

She takes in his appearance again. Like herself, he no longer looks the same.

His scales are pearly white, and between the interlocking scales is a golden amber color that matches his irises. The glaringly red pupils are both beautiful and a source of discomfort for her, but she is happy to share the trait with him.

“Kohaku. Your name is Kohaku.”


	41. Just Honōka.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The shirohebi is young. His mother is the White Snake Sage. He is enshrined at the the Sacred Dragon Spring. His place in the hierarchy is no doubt very high…and he is asking Honōka to name him.
> 
> Orochimaru feels a flicker of ugly jealously welling up in his chest and viciously strangles it.

Orochimaru watches, and he listens, and he fails to comprehend more than he cares to admit. He does not believe in gods, precisely, and yet he knows something truly… _spiritual_ …is happening before his very eyes.

He watches his student _walk_ across the Sacred Dragon Spring—Benten-sama’s spring—and a feeling of reverence creeps up on him. His ridiculous student doesn’t even realize what she is so casually doing should _not_ be possible. 

The ‘spring’ is not water at all, but pure natural energy in its most concentrated form. The snakes call it Dragon’s Blood and a single drop is enough to petrify anyone, and anything, stone dead.

She reaches the albino rat snake enshrined at the small Benten-sha and stops. The natural energy continues to bear her weight, despite being several times lighter than water. He wonders how the snake reached the shrine—for it surely could not have swam across the Dragon’s Blood?

They regard each other in silence, and he thinks the snake must be just as awe-struck as he is. 

“You are much smaller than I remember.”

…

“You’re a lot bigger than _I_ remember.”

…They act as though they know each other. Curious.

“I suppose so, we _did_ both shed our old skins.”

_…What?_

His student laughs.

“What do I call you here, Mikogami?”

He freezes. _Here,_ as opposed to somewhere _else?_ And _Mikogami?_ Why on earth would the snake call her that? Honōka’s mother is neither a miko, nor her father a kannushi—not to mention the spiritual practice of the Tamayori-hime has been outlawed in Konoha for years now.

And yet that is what the snake called her, a Mikogami. Literally the child of a miko and a kannushi as part of a sacred rite; figuratively, the child born from the union of a miko and a kami…a pseudo demi-god.

“Tsunemori Honōka-desu.”

“Honōka-sama.”

 _Honōka-sama?_ What on _earth?_ This snake not only acts as though it—he—knows his student personally, but also unflinchingly pays homage to her?

“Just Honōka is fine.”

…Just _Honōka._ Right.

“Honōka-sama.” The snake insists. “You may call me as you see fit; for my mother, the venerable Hakuja Sennin, Daitenja-sama, has given you the honor of bequeathing me my first name.”

The shirohebi is young. His mother is the White Snake Sage. He is enshrined at the Sacred Dragon Spring. His place in the hierarchy is no doubt very high…and he is asking Honōka to name him.

Orochimaru feels a flicker of ugly jealously welling up in his chest and viciously strangles it.

He is not Honōka, and Honōka is not him. They are two people who have experienced very different traumas that brought them together, no less. And he has only every hurt himself by allowing his envy to rule him. It’s what led him to Danzō in the first place.

And he refuses to allow it a place in his relationship with his student. He takes a deep breath and lets it out—breathes out the ugly feeling until it is gone. He takes another steadying breath.

“Kohaku. Your name is Kohaku.”

His student raises her left hand and her snake (for how can he be anything but _hers)_ stretches out, pressing his forehead to the red mark on her jutsu-shiki.

He pulls away and the red formula changes, morphing into the kanji for ‘Kohaku’—amber.

“Call for me whenever you are in need. I will answer. Should you require the help of the others I will guide you in calling whom ever is most suited to your cause until such a time comes that you learn their names on your own.”

Honōka, of course, ruins the solemnity of the statement by stroking his head, gently.

“You sure are reliable, Kohaku.”

“…Yes, I suppose I am.”

She continues petting him. He flicks his tongue in a way that Orochimaru isn’t entirely sure of. Possibly exasperation, possibly contentment.

“…”

“…”

Orochimaru raises an eyebrow at his student. For someone with a supposed aversion to snakes, she certainly doesn’t mind coddling them.

“Do you eat rabbits? You look like you could eat a rabbit. I’ll catch you one later, if you like. But you seem tired so I’ll leave you to your nap first, okay?”

“…I look forward to our next meeting, Honōka-sama.”

She laughs and caresses his spine one last time.

“See you later, Kohaku!”

She turns and jogs back to him. Kohaku drops his head on top of his coiled body. His body flexes in a silent sigh.

Honōka jumps onto the bank next to him and turns to her newest friend.

“I’ll summon you soon so you can meet my friend Kakashi! He’s terrified of snakes and really fun to tease!”

The snake flicks his tongue, and Orochimaru rolls his eyes. That was obviously a smirk. He wonders if he should warn Kakashi that his student is plotting against him, again.

“By the way, this is my sensei, Orochimaru-sama.” She grabs his hand and swings it between them. “Daitenja-sama called him a half-rotten slug, but he’s really cool! I’m still working on the stagnating chi issue, but it’s hardly noticeable anymore!”

He feels his eye twitch. Is that really what Daitenja calls him behind his back? He _will_ be having private words with them, later.

“…He reminds me of Mother.”

His student laughs, loudly.

“Daitenja-sama reminds me of Sensei!”

His student and her snake share a grin, and Orochimaru wonders how his life came to this point.

“Come, Honōka-kun, you have a contract to sign and I have an assassination to plot.”

“Right. Bye-bye, Kohaku!”

He leads her away and she continues swinging their joined hands. She’s in a _very_ good mood. He pulls her alongside him in a shunshin and they swiftly arrive in front of Daitenja.

**“A favorable first meeting, I take it?”**

Honōka lets go of his hand and launches herself at the White Snake Sage. He just about has a heart attack—then she’s hugging them about the neck, which is a futile endeavor as her arms are nowhere near long enough to reach around Daitenja’s neck.

“Kohaku’s the one I was looking for!”

**“Kohaku…a most suitable name. You chose well, little hatchling. I am glad for you both.”**

He crosses his arms.

“We really must hurry things along, Daitenja-sama. We have pressing concerns at the border.”

**“So impatient, stripling. What happens at some human border hardly concerns me.”**

“Yes. Unfortunately, it _does_ concern me.”

Daitenja chuckles.

**“Very well. Jorō, the contract.”**

Jorō reluctantly comes forward and Honōka jumps down from Daitenja’s stone dais.

“Hello,” his student greets. “I’ve never seen a snake like you before. You are very cute.”

Jorō tilts her snub nose up and blushes with genjutsu, and rather blatantly enhances her general appearance to highlight the brightness and symmetry of her red saddles.

“Jorō, I am afraid your attempts to seduce Honōka-kun will fail. She’s completely blind to genjutsu.”

Jorō gasps. “Say it isn’t so!”

Honōka squats next to her.

“It’s okay. I think you’re already very cute, Jorō-san.”

“C-chan…! Call me Jorō-chan, please!”

His student giggles and pets Jorō on the head.

“Jorō-chan, then. It’s nice to meet you. You can call me Honōka-chan if you like.”

Jorō, overwhelmed by the offer of casual familiarity, effects a totally pointless genjutsu of twinkling stars. He rolls his eyes at the daft serpent. 

**“The contract, Jorō.”** Daitenja rumbles, amused. 

“R-right. Excuse me, Honōka-chan, if you would be so kind as to turn around? Thank you.” She regurgitates the summoning contract without an ounce of decorum. “Orochimaru-sama, if you would open the scroll for Honōka-chan? A cute little hatchling shouldn’t have to dirty their hands on that old thing.”

“This is hardly the dirtiest thing she has handled, Jorō.”

“Even so,”

Honōka turns back around and waits for him to open the scroll. She’s eye-smiling at him, which she obviously learned from Kakashi. He returns to her an unimpressed look and opens the blasted scroll.

She kneels in front of it and just stares for a moment. She traces the previous signature, his, with one finger.

His student has another question, but she does not ask it. He can guess what the question is, easily, but does not answer it. The signature itself should be rather self-explanatory.

She pulls out the unusually shaped kunai from before and cuts her left index finger on the slightly curved point. Then she transforms her finger into a calligraphy brush. He snorts, because of course she would. Honōka signs with deliberate strokes, the form of her signature impeccable.

She transforms—morphs—her finger back into shape and something else catches his eye. The moment before the nick on her finger reappeared, the slight cut was instead a black line, and a drop of shadowy substance leaked out and dissipated into the air. He frowns.

His student finishes with her fingerprints, and hers is the only-left handed signature in the scroll. Not that there are many signatures to begin with.

Daitenja flicks their tongue with a resounding crack, and he and his student look up.

 **“Our meeting today has been most auspicious, little hatchling.”** Daitenja announces. **“You are not as I expected—but are perhaps _more_ than I expected. The time is coming for you to shed your skin and reveal your true scales. I look forward to seeing you again when you do.”**

Sage take pity on him and just let him get back to border patrol and the possible murder conspiracy planned for his person. He might even join Kōmori for an honest nap after this. He thinks he needs a solid hour just to make sense of everything again.

 **“…”** Daitenja flicks their tongue again. **“Orochimaru, you have done well to raise the hatchling so far. Continue doing so, and you will not fail her.”**

His mouth goes dry and he struggles to swallow the lump in his throat. He nods, curtly.

“Thank you, Daitenja-sama.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Orochimaru describes Jorō's spots as saddles. Saddles are a mostly uniform pattern on the backs of some snakes.


	42. Because you’re strong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s a dark and unbearably humid August night. Then there’s a flash of lightning and a crash of thunder and the tempo of the rain increases. Kakashi sits up and blinks sleepily. The dogs are gone. That’s odd, he thinks. Sushi usually hides with him when the weather is bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: there are depictions of suicide in this chapter. If you can't read it, but want to read some of the chapter, your warning is when you get to the chapter summary.
> 
> I had to rewrite this chapter twice because it was _hard._ I cried.

Daitenja returns them to the border camp.

The darkness and the whole falling through space and time thing is slightly more controlled, though she still lands on her face back in the tent. Sensei lands lightly on his feet next to her with grace and poise and hauls her up by the back of her shirt. She rubs her chin. 

“Oh, thank the Sages! You’re back!” Minato exclaims. “I was getting a little worried there, Honōka-chan.”

 _“Getting_ a _little_ worried?” Kakashi challenges. “Sensei, you’ve been pacing this entire time.”

Minato gives Kakashi a light shove that puts him on the ground. He doesn’t apologize and Kakashi pushes himself to his feet, brushing off his knees, and scowls at Minato who ignores him in favor of assessing Honōka’s condition.

“You’re covered in scratches, Honōka-chan. What happened?”

“I fell down a really steep path when I was summoned.”

He winces sympathetically. He's probably ended up in some dicey situations with his Hiraishin before.

“No one tried to eat you, right?”

She gives him a look. “That’s just rude, Minato-san. Why on earth would they want to eat me?”

No one answers her.

“So, did you sign the contract?” Kakashi asks.

“I did! And Look!” She shows off her newly altered summoning seal. The coils and the outline of the snake’s head are still scar-white, but the red mark on the framed forehead is now the kanji for Kohaku’s name. “It changed!”

“Kohaku?” Kakashi reads. “You got a pack member then?”

“Yeah!”

Kakashi nods once. “Congratulations.” He sincerely means it.

She flushes. “Thanks, Kakashi.” She should probably hold back a little on the teasing, or at least reconsider some of her pranks. He _really_ didn’t like the one with the stink bugs.

“I’ll summon him next time we go playing in the woods! He’s big enough to swallow a rabbit whole!”

“Uh, sounds great, Honōka…I can’t wait.”

She grins at him and Sensei massages his temple. He’s amused and exasperated with her. He knows exactly what she’ll probably get up to with a big and scary snake at her command.

“Speaking of lunch—” Sensei’s segue is perfectly timed; Minato and Kakashi look horrified. “—I need a cup of tea.”

She grabs Sensei’s hand. “Sensei, Sensei! Teach me the trick where you swallow a whole egg! I want to impress Kohaku when I summon him!”

Sensei throws his head back and _cackles._ Minato and Kakashi shoot them both alarmed looks.

“Honōka-chan is _different,_ Kakashi!” Minato frets.

“Sensei, Honōka has _always_ been different.”

Sensei and Minato don’t involve her or Kakashi in planning the assassination of Kusa’s daimyō. Not because they’re too young (though she’s sure that’s part of Minato’s reasoning) but more so for the sake of plausible deniability should the plot be exposed.

What they’re planning is way against the rules—if the chaffing it’s causing Kakashi is any indication. Sensei and Minato are going to depose another country’s daimyō without the explicit approval from either the Hokage or the Land of Fire’s daimyō.

If they fail and Konoha’s connection to the assassination attempt is discovered, Kusa’s daimyō will force the Kusa-nin to join Iwa in the war against Konoha. If they succeed (and they will—it’s Sensei _and_ Minato!) but are still found out, the new daimyō and Kusa won’t hate them for it—but the surrounding countries, like Iwa, will shout foul play.

So they absolutely do not want anyone knowing the actual plan.

Which obviously does nothing to ease her and Kakashi’s nerves when they both disappear after supper without so much as a word.

She and Kakashi set out their bedrolls at sunset.

“That was fast, wasn’t it?” she asks. She didn’t think they would aim for same-day-delivery.

“…”

“I suppose we can’t do anything about the Iwa invasion forces until we get permission to send more shinobi across the border.” Which they won’t be getting until they depose the current Kusa daimyo.

“…”

Kakashi feels very tense—like he’s trying very hard to suppress his emotions. Or, he’s feeling something that he’s refusing to give a name. It makes him more difficult to read than others.

“Kakashi?”

He angrily kicks his bedroll and she frowns.

“Are you—”

“Just shut up!”

Honōka purses her lips and lets him have silence. Then Kakashi flickers away, tent flap blowing wide open from the force of his departure. She waits a moment before following him to the edge of the camp.

“Leave me alone, Honōka.”

“No.”

“…!”

He’s crying, and his emotions are such a jumbled mess that she wonders if he even knows why he’s feeling the way he is.

It’s painful, and angry, and lonely.

She offers her hand out.

“Go away, Honōka, I’m serious…!”

She doesn’t think he is. He wants to reach out—to not be alone—but he doesn’t know how to anymore. His chakra swirls around his dantian like a chain of lightning that fails to connect with the ground, jagged and burning.

Honōka looks beyond the nexus.

Kakashi is the tallest peak of a lonely mountain. A summit of cracked stones and jutting boulders, all sharp angles and salted earth. Nothing grows on the mountain and lightning cracks the sky. The rumbling thunder is constant, an unrelenting percussion that aches in her teeth.

The storm is a tempest. Gale-force winds blow the rain in cutting sheets and all around her the sea rises to meet the horizon. She closes her eye and the icy deluge soaks her to the bone. She waits.

Lightning strikes her.

“Kakashi! Breakfast is ready!”

Kakashi blinks. The gray light of a rainy day in June fills his room. He snuggles into his futon and closes his eyes again.

“Kakashi! You’re going to be late for class!”

He sits up, hair sticking off in every direction. His dad’s ninken have surrounded him again, nearly barricading him in his futon. He rubs Chokorēto’s belly. Pokkī nudges him with one hind paw, begging for the same.

He reaches for his mask eventually and pulls it on over his head. His hair puffs up.

“Kakashi!”

“I’m coming, Otō-san!”

He finishes eating and his dad collects up his dishes for him. He’s wearing his jōnin attire today, and the apron with the cartoon bulldog on it. It looks like Sushi.

Kakashi gets up and wraps his scarf around his neck twice.

“Thanks for the meal, I’m heading out first, Otō-san.”

Dad catches him under the arms before he can go anywhere, and he rolls his eyes at him. He squashes him in a bone-crushing hug and presses a kiss to the top of Kakashi's head and a crackle of static arcs between his hair and his dad’s chin as he puts him down. Dad chuckles.

“Must be a storm coming—you’re all charged up.”

Kakashi attempts to pat his hair down, but it just sticks up again.

“Maybe.”

Dad messes his hair up again. Static crackles.

“O-tō-sa-n!” he complains. “I thought I was going to be late for class?”

“Ah, right. You best get going—you wouldn’t want to be late, like Obito-kun, eh?”

“Never!” he vehemently pledges.

It’s a dark and unbearably humid August night. Then there’s a flash of lightning and a crash of thunder, and the tempo of the rain increases. Kakashi sits up and blinks sleepily. The dogs are gone. That’s odd, he thinks. Sushi usually hides with him when the weather is bad.

Kakashi gets up and tiptoes to his room door. He listens intently, but all he can hear is the pouring rain outside and the distant rumbling thunder.

He opens his door and pads into the hall. He forgot his mask and the wet earth and storm smell is overpowering. Then another smell hits his nose and every hair on his body rises.

“Otō-san?” he whimpers. “Otō-san?!”

A clap of thunder right overhead. Kakashi runs, following his nose. He reaches the formal dining hall and throws the doors open.

Dad’s ninken are lying in a neat row, still and quiet, sleeping peacefully at first glance. Only Sushi would never sleep through a thunderstorm; Pokkī sleeps belly up, never belly down; and Chokorēto would be all over Dad if he had so much as a paper-cut.

Kakashi swallows the tangy scent of too much blood and walks into the dining hall. He drops onto his knees next to his father in the dark room, one knee landing in a still warm pool of blood.

He doesn’t call for help—it doesn’t even cross his mind to. He knows it’s too late.

The dog summoning contract is different. _Special._ Any dog can be made a ninken, and when they pledge loyalty, they become lifelong companions that share the natural lifespan of their summoner.

Dad’s ninken have all lived well past their natural lifespans.

Honōka blinks. Her hand is still outstretched. She’s not sure what just happened. It wasn’t like that when she went to Sensei’s island beyond the nexus.

She blinks again. Kakashi rubs his tear-stained eyes.

“What do you want from me, Honōka?”

“…I want you to come back to the tent with me.”

He snorts.

“…I…” she swallows. “I’m sorry.”

He sniffles.

“What are _you_ sorry for? I’m the one who yelled.”

“…”

She’s sorry for intruding on a part of him that wasn’t hers to see. She’s sorry for being a coward and lying to him. Honōka never needed to physically touch anyone to peer inside their lower dantian, or even to influence it. She just… _looks,_ and she's sorry that she did.

It’s wrong. She shouldn’t have done it. Shouldn’t have seen it. She…what she did was more than just feeling his emotions, or reading his mind, or viewing his memories… She _experienced_ them; lived them like they were hers. It was wrong on so many levels.

She’s a monster.

Kakashi abruptly takes her hand.

“I’m sorry, Honōka. I know you can’t turn off your sensor ability, and I’m a complete mess right now. I’ll get it under control in a minute.”

“Don’t apologize for the way you feel, Kakashi.” She bites her cheek. “You shouldn’t have to control it either…it’s okay to be upset or feel sad sometimes.” She squeezes his hand. “Just…when it hurts, you need to talk to someone about it.”

He stiffens up.

“You don’t have to talk about it now, or even with me. But you need to tell someone eventually, when you’re ready.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever be ready.”

She squeezes his hand again and leads him back to the tent.

“Someday you will be.”

“…How can you be so sure?”

Because Tomoe’s mother did the same thing to her father and Ojī-chan when she was a baby. And, if her father and grandfather could push through it, then Kakashi can too.

“Because you’re strong, Kakashi.”


	43. "That means she likes you."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The other man throws his head back and lets out a barking laugh. The bright red marks on his cheeks remind her of a movie that came out when she was in middle school. That he has a ferocious wolf-sized dog next to him is hilariously on the nose.

She startles awake in the middle of the night, confused. “Sensei?”

“Honōka?” Kakashi asks. He’s barely closed his eyes all night. “What is it?”

She listens to the camp and the border. Nothing is amiss. She frowns and sits up, concentrating, on the more distant civilian capital of Kusa, Nagaya. The daimyō’s residence is in Nagaya.

Her jaw drops. It’s the middle of the night and yet…

“Honōka? Is it Minato-sensei and Orochimaru-sensei?”

“People are…celebrating,” fervently.

She’s never felt anything quite like it. It’s— _loud_.

“I don’t know what Sensei and Minato-san did, but the emotional ambiance in Nagaya is _extremely_ upbeat.”

“…The assassination must have been made public.”

“In the middle of the night?”

“Why not?”

She shrugs and lies back down.

“What about Minato-sensei and Orochimaru-sensei?”

“Minato-san feels…awkward. Sensei feels impatient.”

They’re somewhere where it’s just them and three others. Are they receiving a reward? Or is the new daimyō already issuing a formal request for Konoha’s assistance?

Then Sensei feels gleefully intrigued, and she’s willing to bet he just found (was given?) a new toy.

She yawns. “They’re fine, Kakashi. I’m going back to sleep.”

Kakashi lets out a huge breath of relief and the rough edges from earlier that night smooth out. Was…was he that worried about Minato and Sensei?

“…Goodnight, Kakashi.”

“Goodnight, Honōka.”

Kakashi wakes her up at dawn. He looks tired. She _feels_ tired.

“I made you breakfast."

“…thanks…” she rubs her eyes.

“Are Minato-sensei and Orochimaru-sensei on the way back yet?”

She lies back down again with a sigh and searches.

“They’re in Kusagakure now.” Which is crazy. Nagaya and Kusagakure are on either end of Kusa. “Minato-san’s Hiraishin is amazing, isn’t it?”

“It is. Has Sensei ever taken you on a jump before?”

She shakes her head. If it’s anything like reverse summoning, she thinks she might not want to.

Honōka grins at a stray thought. Sensei is using Minato as a taxi.

“Takushī?” Kakashi asks.

She covers her mouth and feigns an impressive yawn. “What?”

“…Never mind.” Kakashi rolls his eyes at her. “Just more sleep talking, obviously.”

“I do not sleep talk!”

“Ask Orochimaru-sensei. I’m convinced he either doesn’t sleep at all, or sleeps with his eyes open.”

They both consider.

“He can probably sleep with his eyes open.” She decides.

Kakashi nods. It’s far from the strangest thing they’ve ever seen Sensei do.

“I mean, it makes more sense than not sleeping at all, right?”

“Definitely.”

They eat breakfast and clean up and she suckers Kakashi into pranking Kōmori with her.

“You realize Kōmori-san is a tokubetsu jōnin, right? He might not be as strong as Minato-sensei or Orochimaru-sensei, but he can still kick both our asses.”

She sticks her tongue out at him.

“He won’t kick our asses. It’s just a little prank.”

“Honōka, your idea of a prank includes sabotaging the man’s coffee press. He’ll kick your ass for that alone—never mind all the other crap you’re planning.”

“He can’t kick my ass if he can’t find me.”

“True, but Kōmori-san actually doesn’t sleep, like, _ever._ He’ll find you, eventually.”

She shrugs. “Sensei’ll be back by then.”

“Honōka, you’re crazy—”

A chūnin smacks into Kakashi’s shoulder with a last second kind of deliberateness. She scowls at him and Kakashi hardens his eyes. Kakashi makes to continue on as though nothing happened. She stops.

“Apologize,” she demands.

The chūnin glances back and looks around innocently before pointing to himself. “Who, me?”

“Yes— _you_.” She snaps. “Apologize.”

“What did I do, kid? I’m just minding my own business here?”

“You shoved my friend. Apologize.”

He scoffs at her. “Listen kid, I don’t know what you saw, but he clearly bumped into me. Maybe _he_ should apologize to _me,_ yeah?”

Kakashi pulls on her elbow. “Come on, Honōka. Let’s go prank Kōmori-san.”

She holds her ground.

“Apologize.”

That does it for the chūnin. He loses his temper and screws up his face, striding purposefully back to her. He lifts an arm and open palm to shove her.

She grabs his wrists and twists, then guides his weight over her shoulder and slams him onto the ground in a joint lock. He squeaks like the little rat he is.

“Apologize!”

He struggles but is unable to break free.

“Fuck off! I’m not apologizing to the White Fang’s bastard! We’re only here at this shitty border camp because the little bastard’s father abandoned his goddamn mission!”

His shouting is attracting several curious eyes and Kakashi grabs her shoulder. She twists the chūnin’s arm harder and he howls in pain. Kakashi freezes. He knows if he makes one wrong move, she _might_ just break the chūnin’s arm.

“Honōka…stop!” he hisses. “Personal fights are not allowed—”

“Apologize to Kakashi.”

The chūnin, who is probably a couple years younger than Minato, tries to struggle his way out of her joint lock. He can struggle all he likes though—she’s pressing her weight down his arm, into his shoulder, and connecting it with the ground. 

There’s a mix of emotions from the gathering shinobi. Of course, they’re being as unobtrusive about it as possible, preferring to not get involved in the childish spat. But overall, they’re amused. A tiny genin is putting a chūnin maybe twice her age on his face in the dirt. It’s probably the funniest thing they’ve seen in a long time.

“Apologize to Kakashi.”

The chūnin is mortified by now.

“F-fine! I’m sorry!”

She doesn’t let him up and twists his arm just a little bit more.

“I said I’m sorry, fuck!”

“You have to actually mean it.”

He wriggles, but he might as well be glued to the ground.

“Alright, what the hell is going on here?” a gruff voice demands.

Most of the gathered shinobi make themselves scarce at the arrival of the newcomer. Not all, but most.

Honōka cringes. She knows that voice.

“It’s you again,” the Uchiha man drawls, utterly unimpressed. “What did Tsunade-hime say your name was again?”

“Tsunemori Honōka-desu.”

“Right, from Tsune—”

“No.”

He flashes her a wicked glare for interrupting. She blankly stares back.

“Are you going to dislocate this boy’s shoulder too?”

“…if he keeps struggling, yeah.”

A ripple of amusement from the brave stragglers. Kakashi is embarrassed as hell—he never gets _caught_ breaking rules, ever.

The Uchiha man crosses his arms at her.

“So, what’d he do? Does he at least deserve this humiliation?”

She didn’t get his name last time they met, but she knows he’s part of the KKB.

“Inflammatory accusations, Uchiha-san.”

The man doesn’t smile—he puts on an even sterner expression. However, he actually finds the whole situation pretty funny.

“I see. However, this is border patrol, not a playground. Let the boy up.”

She frowns and reluctantly lets go of his arm. She steps aside so she’s at least not within grabbing distance of the chūnin. He’s _extremely_ mortified, and people who feel any emotion to a certain extreme can become very unpredictable.

“So, he said some not so nice words to you. You put him on the ground. What’s next?”

“…Make him apologize?”

“It’s not just my eyes that work good kid. I’ve got two functioning ears and I heard him apologize just as well as anyone else.” He shoots a glare at the bystanders and there are a couple nervous chuckles.

“He didn’t mean it though,”

“And how are you supposed to know if he meant it or not?”

“I’m a sensor type. I always know when someone is lying.”

Which isn’t strictly true. But the Second Hokage made a point of saying it was impossible to lie to high-level sensors. She doesn’t mind claiming it as well—it’s easier than explaining that she knows he’s not feeling guilty or remorseful.

“Listen, kid—Honōka—you can punish some people all you like and they’ll never admit they were wrong.”

She nods. He’s right.

“Be the bigger person next time and walk away, okay?”

“Or deck him when no one’s watching!” someone shouts. There're some quiet agreements to that. The Uchiha man rolls his eyes. 

“I stand by what I said. Be the bigger person.”

“Boo, you’re no fun, Fugaku!”

A flash of irritation from Uchiha Fugaku. He turns to find the source of the voice.

“Gaku, don’t encourage them, please. I have enough trouble dealing with your bullshit day-in and day-out.”

The other man throws his head back and lets out a barking laugh. The bright red marks on his cheeks remind her of a movie that came out when she was in middle school. That he has a ferocious wolf-sized dog next to him is hilariously on the nose.

The chūnin boy standing next to her is pickling in his mortification, and it’s quickly souring into something else. Resentment, probably. She’ll have to keep an eye on him.

Fugaku turns on the boy.

“You’re one of Himeko’s teammates, Kaito, yes?”

Kaito nods unhappily.

“Keep your mouth shut about Konoha’s White Fang.”

A shiver travels up her spine. That was…a bare hint of killing intent.

“Y-yes, Fugaku-san!” Kaito bows quickly and makes his escape.

“Ah, damn. I was hoping the feisty little puppy was going to break his nose, or something.”

Fugaku turns to the glare at the man with the red Clan markings.

“Gaku, please don’t encourage her. She put my great aunt’s grandson in the hospital for far less.”

“Man, just say your cousin, like a normal person.”

The two men glare at each other, but it’s only for show. They’re probably the same age, familiar enough to casually banter with each other. Maybe they were classmates or even teammates at some point?

Gaku suddenly approaches her and Kakashi, his tan furred companion trotting behind him, both grinning…wolfishly. 

“Yo, brats. Name’s Inuzuka Gaku. If that Kaito jackass gives you anymore grief, you come tell Ol’ Fugaku or your big brother Gaku here. We’ll set him straight for you.”

“Why am I the oji-san and you the onī-san in this situation? You’re older than me, you old mutt.”

“Hey now, I take offense to that!”

Kakashi feels so lost. He’s in a state of disbelief—has been since Uchiha Fugaku all but threatened Kaito with something _not nice_ over Hatake Sakumo.

Gaku claps Kakashi on the shoulder, jarring him from his thoughts.

“Us sister clans gotta stick up for each other!”

Kakashi nods slowly.

“Not that I’ll have much to stick up for if this one hangs around!” 

Gaku throws back his head and laughs again, then goes to pet her hair. Something about her body language must warn him off though, as he smoothly aborts the maneuver halfway.

“Pa always said the bitches make better guard dogs.”

Fugaku punches Gaku in the kidney, and the man hits the ground, coughing.

“Fugaku, you ass! Careful where you aim, man!”

“You deserved it, _really._ ”

She giggles and both men suddenly eye her warily. She’s not sure why, though. Even Kakashi sends them a pitying stare.

“Congratulations.” He deadpans. “That means she likes you.”


	44. the kekkei genkai argument

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kakashi feels like telling him, ‘too late, she already showed him her dimples,’ but he thinks Kōmori might not get it. For whatever reason, he’s on Honōka’s shit list, and has therefore not been a recipient to her blinding toothless smile and dimples. If he had to hazard a guess it’s probably because he’s chummy with her sensei and she doesn’t like it.

They don’t get to prank Kōmori. He takes one look at them, knows they’re up to something, and orders them out of the Intelligence Division’s tent.

“But, Kōmori-san—I wanted to show you my snake summons!” Honōka whines.

Kōmori makes eye contact with Kakashi.

“What are my chances of regretting humoring her? Tell it to me straight, kid.”

He’s almost relieved. He thought Kōmori was going to call him the ‘littlest monster’ for a second.

“Your coffee press is in peril.”

Kōmori glares at Honōka and Honōka glares at him.

“You’re a traitor and I’m stealing your socks when we go home.”

“Honōka, I don’t own _any_ socks.”

“Then I’m stealing your wallet and buying myself new socks.”

“You’re ridiculous.” And a thief.

“You’re both ridiculous; now get out of my tent.”

“But Kōmori-san, Sensei and Minato are away and I’m bored. _And,_ I made two new friends, but Kakashi scared them away!”

He snorts. “I didn’t scare them away; they had a border patrol assignment.”

“We should have gone with them. Chairo could have caught a rabbit for Kohaku.”

“No.” Kōmori sternly points at Honōka. “You are not making friends with that hooligan and his blasted dog. I have enough to deal with as is.” 

Kakashi feels like telling him, ‘too late, she already showed him her dimples,’ but he thinks Kōmori might not get it. For whatever reason, he’s on Honōka’s shit list, and has therefore not been a recipient to her blinding toothless smile and dimples. If he had to hazard a guess, it’s probably because he’s chummy with her sensei and she doesn’t like it.

“Fugaku-oji-san said something similar, didn’t he, Kakashi?”

 _“Fugaku-oji-san?_ Please tell me you did not call him that to his face. Poor guy’s only twenty-six.”

“Gaku-nī-san told me to.”

 _“Gaku-nī-san?!_ He’s twenty-seven!”

Honōka shrugs. He sighs. Chaos. Honōka is chaos.

Kōmori pinches the bridge of his nose. “I get a headache every time your come around, little monster, and it’s not just from the nonsense you spout. Can you tone it down a bit?”

Kakashi frowns. He didn’t think Honōka was being that loud?

She scowls at Kōmori.

“I can, but then I’ll be the one with a headache.”

“Right. You’re a passive type, like me.”

“Passive type?” he asks.

“Means we were born without a way to turn off our sensor abilities—kind of like you and your not-a-kekkei-genkai.”

“Not-a-kekkei-genkai?” Honōka asks, shooting him a look.

He points to his covered nose. “My sense of smell is several times greater than that of a normal person. It’s not a kekkei genkai though. It’s a…family trait?”

Kōmori rolls his eyes. “What is a kekkei genkai if not a family trait?”

“There are two main types of kekkei genkai.” Honōka replies. “Ocular techniques and advanced nature transformations. A rare third type exists, comprising techniques unachievable with normal ninjutsu methods. Bodily modification techniques are common. Shikotsumyaku falls under this category, allowing its users to manipulate the bones throughout their body in various ways.”

“And what is Kakashi’s keen sense of smell if not a bodily modification?” Kōmori challenges.

“An exceptional genetic predisposition.”

“You’re quoting Orochi, aren’t you?”

“Maybe.”

“If my sense of smell is a kekkei genkai, are yours and Honōka’s passive sensor abilities kekkei genkai too?”

“Yes,” Kōmori says.

“No,” Honōka says.

“Yes,” Kōmori asserts. “Kekkei genkai literally means bloodline limit. Passive sensor abilities often come from familial lineages—bloodlines. The enhanced hearing and audio specific sensor ability I have consistently crops up in the Yamabiko family. Therefore, if the Hyūga and Uchiha Clans get to call their fancy eyes a kekkei genkai, I get to call my ears a kekkei genkai.”

Honōka shrugs. “Mine is a random mutation with possible emotional-environmental influences. So, not a kekkei genkai.”

“Say that to Fugaku, I dare you. He’ll laugh in your face.”

She scowls at Kōmori again.

“Besides, I wouldn’t call it totally random. Torifu-san was telling me his youngest grandson has eyes just like yours.”

Honōka recoils, and he catches her elbow. He sends Kōmori a scathing look that he hopefully interprets as ‘taboo, please shut up’.

“Kōen? Sensei said—”

“No, the youngest one. Shinku, I believe he’s called.”

Honōka…does not look good.

“Honōka?”

She flickers away. Kakashi follows.

She doesn’t go far—just far enough to throw up in a bush. She’s shaking, trembling like a spooked animal. Kōmori appears next to him, concerned and more than a little confused. He warns him back.

She dry heaves and he winces. He’s…never seen her react quite so badly before.

“What’d I say?” Kōmori whispers.

Kakashi gestures to his eyes.

Kōmori squints.

“Bullying?”

“Worse.”

“Is it related to the other word I’m not allowed to say?”

He nods.

“Duly noted.”

“Honōka, should I get you some water?”

She shakes her head and hugs herself, staring numbly at the ground, pupils blown wide open in her uncontrolled panic. They practically glow. Orochimaru-sensei told him it’s because of the extra light reflecting on the backs of her eyes, on something he called a vestigial tapetum lucidum.

“I’ll get her some water. You make sure she doesn’t bolt.”

He nods again. Kōmori flickers away.

He takes a cautious step closer, which Honōka doesn’t seem to notice, much. He wishes he kept a handkerchief on him. He’ll just have to make do with his arm warmer.

He takes off one and offers it to her. “Here, Honōka. Wipe your mouth.”

She doesn’t respond. He takes another step closer.

“Honōka?”

Her eyes flick up and then down again.

“I’m wiping your chin, okay? Don’t stab me.”

Kakashi cleans off the sick for her and she shivers, eyes pinching shut. He balls up his arm warmer, inside out, and shoves it in his pocket when he’s done. He takes a deep breath and thinks of what else he can do for her.

It occurs to him that she’s an emotional sensor, and that his worried tension is definitely not helping her. He needs to feel something else. Happiness, maybe.

He hasn’t felt that much recently. But he knows something, someone, who always cheers him up.

Kakashi cuts his thumb on a kunai and runs through the hand seals for the summoning jutsu, slapping his hand to the ground.

Pakkun appears in a cloud of smoke. 

“Yo, Kakashi—oi, what’s wrong with the little girlie?”

“Honōka’s not feeling the greatest, Pakkun. Do you think you could cheer her up?”

“Eh?” Pakkun takes one look at the state Honōka is in and pins his ears back. “I don’t see how that’s my problem.”

“Maa…Honōka is…pack?”

Pakkun sniffs.

“She smells snaky.”

He nearly sighs. Dad…Otō-san said it was important to socialize pack early. He may have neglected that with Pakkun, a bit.

“Honōka is pack, like Minato-sensei.”

“Hm,” Pakkun sniffs again, still not convinced. “If you say so, Kakashi.”

Pakkun sits nearly on top of Honōka’s feet. She barely notices.

“Girlie, look down here. I’ve got something good to show you.” He holds up his paw. “Look at these supple toe beans. Bet your snakes have nothing quite like it.”

Pakkun is…not so great with other people, Kakashi thinks.

“Oh, damn, Kakashi—I made the little girlie cry.”

Crap. Pakkun was clearly a bad idea, abort mission!

Honōka kneels down and pulls Pakkun into her lap and _wails._ He panics. Pakkun looks two seconds away from chomping her face.

“Um, Honōka, I’m sorry—Pakkun’s not really a people kind of dog…!”

Honōka gently takes Pakkun’s awkwardly raised paw and rubs her thumb over his paw pads, tears and snot streaming down her face.

“Kakashi, I think this little girlie is broken.”

Honōka cries louder and he frantically thinks of a way to salvage the situation.

“No, no! Not broken, just a little bruised; right, Pakkun?”

“…if you say so, Kakashi.”

“Uwuh,” she sniffles. She’s still rubbing Pakkun’s paw pads, so that’s maybe a good sign? “They _really_ are supple…!”

Pakkun’s tail curls up, proudly.

“I told you, girlie. These are the softest paws you’ll ever lay eyes on—and I’m letting you touch them.”

She sniffles loudly and cuddles Pakkun to her chest. He rumbles unhappily, but glances to Kakashi before doing anything about it. He eye begs him to just put up with it. Pakkun huffs.

“I better get a pig ear for this—extra salty.”

“I’ll get you _two_.”

Honōka calms down, eventually, and he coaxes her into eating a full meal to fill her stomach again. After that, she passes out in her bedroll, still cuddling Pakkun—who has negotiated the cost of his services up to five pig ears now.

The tent flap whispers open and Minato-sensei walks in. He looks dead tired.

“Kakashi, Honōka-chan, we’re back…!” He sounds dead tired, too.

“Sh!” he hisses. Minato-sensei freezes.

Orochimaru-sensei steps around him, eyebrow raised. Kakashi points to Honōka, who’s eyes are still swollen from crying so much. She remains blissfully unaware, which he thinks she deserves. 

“Oh no, what happened, Kakashi?” Minato whispers.

“Kōmori mentioned the taboo and mentioned that someone else—Torifu’s grandson?—has the taboo too.”

Orochimaru-sensei scowls. “Kōmori did?”

Kakashi nods. “She mentioned ‘Kōen’. That’s her nephew, right? So, Shinku would be her nephew too?”

“I would assume so. I met her sister in June and she was nearly due then.”

Minato-sensei _glares_ at Orochimaru-sensei.

“You should have told her, Orochimaru-san. She can’t keep finding out about her family from strangers.”

“…”

Yikes. He’s never seen Orochimaru-sensei chastised before.

“Yes. Perhaps that was a mistake.”

Kakashi shrugs. What’s done is done.

“I’ve never seen her react that badly before.”

“I take it she got into the kekkei genkai argument with Kōmori?”

He nods. Orochimaru-sensei’s eyes narrow. He kind of feels bad for Kōmori. He didn’t know the landmine that is any and all mention of Honōka’s eyes—and apparently other people (specifically family?) having the same eyes.

“In Kōmori-san’s defense, he didn’t know about the taboo,” Minato points out. “We only warned him about the other taboo since he was more likely to let that one slip.”

Orochimaru-sensei sighs.

“Yet another mistake on my part.”

“Maybe we should go eat in the mess hall?” Minato-sensei asks. “So we don’t wake Honōka-chan up?”

Kakashi points to their repaired table set and the covered meals.

“I made enough for you guys.”

“Woah! So reliable!”

“Sh!”

“…sorry…!”

Honōka just cuddles Pakkun tighter in her sleep.


	45. ‘the child of an oni’

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “That settles the kekkei genkai argument, then.” Sensei says. “You have a dōjutsu.”
> 
> “…I thought there were only three dōjutsu?”
> 
> Sensei snorts. “Heavens no. That’s just the Academy’s bias showing.”

Honōka opens her still swollen eyelids. It’s nearly suppertime, judging by the activity in the camp. Kakashi is once again making miso soup. She loves miso soup, but she’s going to be sick of it by the time border patrol is over.

She rolls over. Minato is snoring on the other side of the tent and Pakkun is sadly gone. Sensei reclines on his rolled up bedroll next to her, one arm crossed over his body and the other supporting his head on the back of his hand. His eyes are half closed and he’s breathing evenly. 

Uwah! He does sleep with his eyes open! 

She can’t help herself. She swipes his arm and his head rolls back on his shoulder, startling him awake. He swears. She laughs.

“You _are_ a brat.”

“You sleep with your eyes open, Sensei.”

He blinks his eyes a couple times, and she sees a clear scale move, something like a contact lens, except cooler.

“Teach me how to do that?”

“I am sure you can figure it out on your own. Your transformation technique is _considerably_ more advanced than mine.”

She pouts. She wants to learn how to use _Sensei’s_ version.

He goes back to reclining on his bedroll. He looks tired. Sensei closes his eyes for a moment, eyelashes long and dark on his pale cheeks. His jaw clenches, and she’s not entirely sure if he’s fighting a yawn or picking his next words. Maybe both.

“Honōka-kun…Kakashi-kun tells me you had another episode today, thanks to Kōmori.” He nearly growls the last part. She should feel delighted she got Kōmori in trouble, but she doesn’t.

She rolls over.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“We are talking about it.”

“…” He can talk to himself then.

“We are talking about Sachiko, and Kōen, and Shinku—who I did know would have the _‘taboo’,_ for the record.”

She takes a deep breath. Kakashi glances at her from the camp stove, worried.

She… 

She told him he could be strong—that he’d be ready to talk about his feelings, someday. And she’s a hypocrite—because she would rather _never_ talk about her feelings, ever. If she could rip them from her head and never think about them again, she would.

“When I spoke to your sister in June, it was to find out more about your family and your father—to find witnesses who would testify against him, specifically. We spoke, and I frankly considered breaking every bone in his body. Then Sachiko asked me to pass a message on to you that I have been unable to, as it breaks both taboos.”

She wonders what Sachiko could have wanted to tell her. The last time she saw her was before her wedding. She hadn’t been allowed to attend because her face had been one giant bruise. She’s not sure she wants to know, but Sensei continues anyway—whether she wants to hear the message or not.

“She asked me to tell you that your ‘onē-chan’ named her son after _you._ Kōen, like the color of your eyes—and also that she does not think they are ugly, or frightening, and ‘certainly not oni eyes’.”

Honōka swallows.

“I also spoke to Kōmori and Torifu-san.”

He waits a moment and goes on, again.

“Akimichi Shinku was born on July tenth. While the argument can be made that his eyes have not yet settled on their final color, it is highly unusual for an infant of any age to have red pupils. Sachiko in particular is convinced they will be the exact same as yours.” 

She lets out a hiss of held breath. Tears prickle in her eyes. Poor Sachiko, poor _Shinku._

“This is according to Torifu-san, mind you, her father-in-law: ‘the color of Shinku’s eyes bring her joy, as it means to Sachiko that her son will be strong and kind—and an exceptional shinobi one day’.”

“…!”

“I doubt it is any comfort to you, but Akimichi Nagihiko and Sachiko plan to enroll Kōen and eventually Shinku at the Academy.”

She bites her lip. It really isn’t a comfort to her—but the Akimichi are a predominately shinobi family, even if Sachiko married a non-shinobi branch. At least Kōen and Shinku will have resources for learning that she didn’t have.

Honōka covers her eyes with the back of her arm.

“…Torifu-san tried to ask me if these eyes meant anything.”

“He asked me as well, and was rather disappointed when I had nothing to offer.”

She laughs, humorlessly.

“I don’t think they _do_ mean anything. It’s not like I can use them to see chakra like the Byakugan or copy everything I see like the Sharingan.”

“Do you not use them to see the lower dantian?”

“No—” but then she considers.

She sits up and covers her right eye. Total darkness, or the absence of all light. _Eigengrau._ She takes a steadying breath and looks at Sensei.

…Nothing. That’s what she thought—

—Or not. There is something.

It’s a feeling, and a sound, but it’s also something she can see, can _look_ at. She thought it was happening all inside her head, but she can see Sensei’s lower dantian spinning. A looping swirl of lilac colored wind, with a void center.

And she can see beyond that void, beyond the nexus and into the liminal space. Sensei’s island, right before her. She _sees_ it, can _look_ at it—can **_change_** it. She can step inside it and dive into the waters surrounding Sensei’s island and take and _take_ and **_take._**

But she can also give back—can **_balance_** it. That’s what she did when Danzō was inside his head. Got inside with him and pushed him out, _out, **out.**_ And when he was gone and there was a terribly large tear in the space Danzō had once occupied; she pulled the raw edges together until he was not whole again, but in one piece at least.

She cut a diseased branch off so that the tree could survive.

Honōka uncovers her right eye and covers her blind eye. Sensei’s island doesn’t disappear. She swallows again.

“…”

Sensei raises an eyebrow at her.

“I…can see into your lower dantian with either eye.” Then she reaches for Minato behind her but doesn’t turn to face him. Water running down a drain, emptying into a calming ocean. She frowns. She can’t see Minato himself, but she can see his lower dantian in the back of her head. How can she see something literally behind her? “I can also see Minato’s without turning.”

“That settles the kekkei genkai argument, then.” Sensei says. “You have a dōjutsu.”

“…I thought there were only three dōjutsu?”

Sensei snorts. “Heavens, no. That’s just the Academy’s bias showing.”

She laughs. It sounds watery.

“During the Warring States Period there were at least three others. Of those three, only the Chinoike Clan's dōjutsu from the Land of Lightning had a reputation comparable to that of the Three Great Dōjutsu Konoha is so proud of. It was supposedly on par with the Uchiha's Sharingan—which is why the Uchiha were the ones hired to run them off after a murder scandal involving the daimyō of the Land of Lightning. After which the Chinoike Clan apparently resettled in the Land of Hot Water, before disappearing again.”

Sensei pauses and considers her carefully. She can tell he’s had this on his mind for a while now.

“Would you like to hear my theory on the origins of your supposedly unique dōjutsu?”

She nods. Just because she _hates_ her eyes doesn’t mean she’s not curious or unwilling to look for answers, especially answers Sensei is just dangling in front of her.

“The Chinoike Clan possessed a kekkei genkai called Ketsuryūgan. It was a dōjutsu that aided them in performing powerful genjutsu, as well as making it possible for them to defend against the Uchiha’s superior Sharingan-based genjutsu. It supposedly allowed them to freely manipulate the blood in their bodies, and even that of others. They were also rumored to be skilled with an unknown transformation technique.”

“That sounds like Honōka, kind of.” Kakashi comments. He’s making egg-fried rice and she can’t wait to eat it.

“Indeed. They were a blond-haired clan with violet eyes. But, an active Ketsuryūgan turned their eyes blood red.”

“…” The rest of her family is light-haired or blond-haired, with blue eyes. Except for Manaka, who does have violet eyes.

“Do you know where the Tsunemori family hails from, Honōka-kun?” It’s Sensei, so she’s not surprised he looked into her family history.

“…The Land of Hot Water.” It’s why they settled in the Konoha Steam District and opened a bathhouse. It was in their _blood._

“Holy shit.” Kakashi says. “So, Honōka could be a descendant of those Chinoike people?!”

Sensei delicately shrugs one shoulder.

“It is a distinct possibility—though do keep in mind that she would be several generations removed. And, evidently, Honōka-kun’s dōjutsu is not the same as the Ketsuryūgan. Hers seems to completely negate the effects of genjutsu rather than make any use of it—and if she can manipulate the blood in her body, we have yet to see it.”

“She just makes ridiculously complicated transformations that no one else can imitate instead.” Minato yawns. “Totally normal stuff, right?”

“Why can’t I turn it off though?” all the other dōjutsu have resting and active phases.

Sensei leans over and ruffles her hair.

“Just as some genetic traits lack rhyme or reason, so to do _certain_ kekkei genkai. Need I remind you of the Kaguya Clan and their Shikotsumyaku?”

“No, but they don’t have to use their kekkei genkai if they don’t want to.”

“Headaches and emotional fatigue are minor and much preferred to uncontrollable tumorous bone growth.” He doesn’t mention the battle fever or bloodlust, as the jury’s still out on her ‘fits’.

“You won’t be saying that if I snap and wreak havoc someday.”

“No havoc,” Minato cuts in. “Pranks over havoc and mayhem any day, please.”

She sticks her tongue out at him.

“Honōka…” Kakashi trails off. “Are you okay now? Or is it still taboo to talk about—?” he gestures to his eyes.

She doesn’t answer him.

“Do I get to name it, since it’s a new dōjutsu and mine?” she asks instead.

“Go ahead—” Sensei encourages, “but do not let Minato influence you. His naming sense is horrible.”

“Hey now! There’s nothing wrong with my naming sense!”

No one agrees with him.

“Shinryūgan.”

Sensei is surprised by her quickness.

“True Dragon Eye?” he asks.

She nods. He smirks at her, impressed with her boldness, and pleased with her nod to their summons. The goal of the Ryūchi Cave snakes and their summoners is to become true dragons, after all.

“If anyone calls me a demon again, I’ll show them I’m a dragon instead.”

She’s not really over the taboos. Call it a dōjutsu, or any other pretty name—she still knows how she feels about her eyes. So do Sensei, and Kakashi, and Minato.

Tsunemori Keisuke carved a bloody crest on her soul that is still agonizingly raw to the touch, and she doesn’t know if it’ll ever really heal. But she won’t let her nephews, especially Shinku, be branded in the same way she was.

So, she’ll proudly call her blood-red eyes the True Dragon Eye, Shinryūgan, if it means Shinku never has to be called ‘the child of an oni’.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 真龍眼/Shinryūgan: true dragon eye


	46. Inoshikachō! Five points!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A young man with two new jagged and still raw scars on the right side of his face sits across from her. Rice drops off his chopsticks as he recognizes her.
> 
> “Ah.”
> 
> “It’s the pots and pans kid!” he exclaims.

The new daimyō of the Land of Grass officially comes into power at the end of September, after which the Kusa-nin begin actively routing the invading Iwa-forces with the help of the Konoha Border Patrol.

Honōka doesn’t think it can be called a simple border patrol anymore. There are nearly five hundred shinobi in the camp now, and another five hundred set to arrive by the end of October. By mid-November they might actually have a combined force great enough to push back Iwa’s army.

She originally estimated thirteen hundred Iwa-nin and then passed out before she could complete her counts. Since then, she’s had several more cracks at it. The new total is twenty-five hundred—which has been confirmed by their Kusa allies and the Konoha Border Patrol (KBP).

It’s…scary. But it would have been much scarier if they had walked into the situation blind.

The Intelligence Division has expanded, and she’s become a ‘hot commodity’, according to Kōmori, for her ability to locate even the most well hidden Iwa camps—all while remaining undetected herself.

It’s thanks to that ability that they’ve been able to get the jump on several of Iwa’s less defended camps already. It’s also thanks to her that the Iwa-nin have clustered together to form tighter, more tricky, defenses. They’ve realized someone is spying on them.

She thought having them retreat into one camp would be a _good_ thing.

But Sensei tells her it’s rare for two opposing shinobi forces to meet in great numbers, preferring instead smaller skirmishes and calculated assaults. All out battle is highly unusual, and when it does happen the outcome is brutal—and ends in mutual destruction more often than not.

She shivers. 

The October mornings in the northern Land of Fire are much cooler than Konoha. Here and there the trees have turned yellow, brown, and red. In another week or two, the leaves will start falling. She’ll have to unpack her new winter coat soon.

The camp is active all hours of the day now, and Sensei and Minato are usually busy across the border, leaving her to Kōmori and the Intelligence Division and Kakashi with Inuzuka Gaku on the traps and seals disarming team. That means he’s across the border more often than not, too.

She’s not jealous—she just wishes she could be there with him. 

Honōka checks in on him (Sensei and Minato too) a couple times a day at least. She usually sees them every third day, but Sensei and Minato are zombies when they get back and just eat and sleep. It’d be funny if she weren’t so worried about them.

She’s walking to the mess hall after working the night shift at the Intelligence Division when Kaito starts heckling her. It’s become a hobby of his. She thinks he needs a new one.

“Yo, Marimo, growing any moss yet?”

He’s not even good at it…

She yawns. He glares at her. She keeps walking.

He knows he can’t fight her on patrol, knows she would probably (definitely) win even if he could, and it _rots_ him. He jogs to keep up with her fast walk, and attempts to loom over her. She’s shorter than literally everyone she knows, so it’s not like she finds it intimidating. Not in the least.

“Hey, I’m talking to you, freak!”

She yawns again.

“I bet your teammates think you’re a freak too, with your—”

“Orochimaru-sama taught me how to summon man-eating snakes. Would you like to see?”

His resentment turns into terror so quickly she almost laughs. Sensei’s name really should be a form of bullying.

“I have border patrol, unlike you. G-go play with your snakes somewhere else!”

“Okay, stay safe.”

“…!”

“…”

He storms off.

She enters the mess hall, which is an actual building now, not just a tent, and queues up. It’s busy, more so than usual. It looks like another couple teams have arrived.

She accepts her meal from a young chūnin and turns to find a spot at one of the long tables.

“Oi, little missy!” Torifu calls out. “Honōka-chan, get your butt over here!”

She’s on better terms with Akimichi Torifu now, thanks to Sensei explaining various things to him. She wasn’t happy about it at first, but having Torifu in the know means another ally on the case against her father—and Sensei thinks she should be friendly with her sister’s family, anyway. And having connections with the Akimichi Clan is nothing to sniff at.

Having the support of the Akimichi family will also be a good buffer between her and everyone else when the rumor about hers and Shinku’s dōjutsu inevitably spreads. It’ll make it that much harder for Danzō to reach her too.

She weaves through the crowded hall and pops her meal tray up on the table next to Torifu before climbing onto the bench next to him.

A young man with two jagged and still raw scars on the right side of his face sits across from her. Rice drops off his chopsticks as he recognizes her.

“Ah.”

“It’s the pots-and-pans kid!” he exclaims.

Pots _and_ pans? It was only one pot and one ladle, actually. 

“You’re the Catnap Ninja.”

The guy next to him laughs, shaking his head, long ash blond hair swaying. “Catnap Ninja? That one’s sticking, Shikaku.”

“What’s sticking?” another Akimichi clansman sits next to them, forcing them to shimmy down the bench a little. “I got soft-boiled eggs for everyone!”

She stands on the bench and reaches across the table, grabbing two. Torifu chuckles at her.

The younger Akimichi recognizes her (by her stupid eyes, obviously) and surprise colors his tone.

“Hey, Tori-ji, is this—”

“The pots-and-pans kid I was telling you about,” Shikaku growls. “I thought Sandaime-sama was going to skewer us for that stunt you pulled, brat.”

She shrugs. “Biwako-obā-san told me to do it.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it.”

“Ask her,” she encourages.

Shikaku narrows his eyes at her and _thinks._ She has to focus on something—someone—else for a second. That was…dizzying. She thought Sensei was complex!

“…Biwako-sama has a sense of humor?”

She nods.

He sits back. “I don’t believe it.” He does, actually—because he seems to have verified it from her?

She shells a soft boiled egg and swallows it whole. Sensei told her to practice on boiled eggs before he would teach her the trick with raw eggs.

The three shinobi across from her look vaguely horrified. She thinks they’re about Minato’s age, maybe only a couple years older. 

“…She’s Orochimaru’s, alright.” Shikaku drawls.

“My cousin Daichi interns at Orochimaru-sama’s lab…apparently it’s an ‘experience’.”

“Oh! You’re Atsushi’s cousin?”

“Atsushi?”

“You know, from the story Atsushi the Guileless? Daichi reminds me and Sensei of the samurai, Atsushi.”

“Daichi the Guileless!” He covers his mouth and snickers. “It fits him so well!”

“Inoichi, come on, don’t be mean. Daichi-kun is a great kid.”

“But, Chōza, it _fits_!”

She jumps on the bench, excited, and startles the three of them with her sudden finger pointing.

“Ino—” point, “Shika—” point, “Chō!” five points!

Torifu pulls her down by the back of her shirt. 

“You've been drinking Kōmori’s coffee again, haven’t you?”

She nods. “It tastes like ash and tar, but it's really _invigorating.”_

“You’ll stunt your growth,” he warns. “You’re already so tiny.”

She shrugs. If she ever needs to be taller, she’ll just transform herself.

“So,” Chōza says. “This is Sachiko-san’s little sis, right?”

“Tsunemori Honōka-desu.” She greets.

Chōza reaches out to clasp her forearm and she awkwardly reciprocates with her much smaller hand.

“I’m Akimichi Chōza. Nara Shikaku’s the one with the bed head and Yamanaka Inoichi’s the one with the impractically long hair.”

Chōza, by comparison, has short brown spiky hair—under the red boar skin headpiece he’s wearing.

They make an interesting trio; she thinks. She bows slightly.

“Nice to meet you.”

They awkwardly nod back.

Seeing the opportunity, she scarfs down her breakfast.

“Don’t choke,” Torifu chuckles, pushing her cup of tea towards her. “What’s the hurry? Eat a little slower, missy.”

She swallows. “Kakashi gets back from disarming duty soon. We’re practicing a collaboration technique whenever we have the spare time.”

“Ambitious.” Shikaku states.

“That’s what Sensei said.”

“…”

She doesn’t even try to understand that. She doesn’t know why some people (Shikaku, Sensei, _Minato)_ have to flicker through so many emotions just to parse out a thought. It’s—annoying? Irritating. Annoying is…it still feels _not nice_ to her. She clears her head with a quick shake.

The ground shakes and she nearly falls off the bench. Torifu steadies her.

The mess hall goes eerily silent.

“Earthquake?” Someone asks.

Panic. From Kakashi. She jumps up.

“Honōka-chan? What is it?” Torifu asks.

“Distress signal. Eleven point three km north-northwest. Traps and seals team is down…” it’s close enough that she can get a distressingly clear reading. “Two fatalities.” They’re an eight-man team. She only senses six. “Zero enemy nin in the vicinity.” A trap then—one that’s—

“That’s too close to our border to be Iwa,” says Shikaku.

She hisses through the gap in her front teeth. There’ve been so many new faces and signatures that she started tuning people out. She was careless! Too careless! This has Danzō’s name written all over it!

Torifu is already organizing a rescue team.

Honōka cuts her finger on the top right canine too she’s transformed to be extra sharp and draws a line down her summoning seal.

Kohaku appears in a ring around her feet, immediately rearing up, coiling protectively around her. Several people jump out of the way. Kohaku is nowhere near as large as his mother, but a three meter long snake is by no means small. 

“Honōka-sama.” His tail lashes as he tastes his surroundings. “Your orders?”

“I need someone to relay a message to Sensei.”

He nods, and some of the tension eases from his coils. 

She draws an ‘x’ on her palm.

“I see. Anything else?”

“That’s all, Kohaku. Thank you.”

He dismisses himself and she turns to head back to the Intelligence Division.

“What the _hell_ was that all about?” Shikaku demands.

“It's a secret!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do not attempt to swallow boiled eggs whole!!! Leave it to the professional egg swallowing shinobi!


	47. “A secret for a secret?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You any good at keeping secrets?” Fugaku asks, sniffling again.
> 
> “The best.”

She finds Kōmori and informs him about the traps and seals team. The sensors on duty picked it up already so she has nothing else to contribute. Then she draws an ‘x’ on her palm and he swears.

“Seriously? Now?!” He groans. “Are you sure? Of course you’re sure.”

Unease prickles between them.

“Alright. Stick with me, little monster. Orochi’ll kill me if I let anything happen to you.”

She nods.

“I can try figuring out who’s _who,_ but it’s harder finding a target with no emotions when they’re not right in front of me or actively observing me.”

“Great.” Kōmori blows out a breath. “ETA on Orochi?”

“I asked Kohaku to contact him but it doesn’t feel like the message has been received yet.” Sensei would have acknowledged her if he had already.

“Can’t you,” he gestures to his eyes, “use that subconscious interaction thing?”

She scowls at him. “I can’t see nexus points beyond two hundred meters.” And she’s not sure it even works that way. Sensei only noticed she did something to him (not what, exactly) because it snapped him out of Danzō’s genjutsu.

“Right.”

“Kakashi’s nearly back, let’s go.”

Kōmori frowns. “That was fast.”

“Torifu-san organized a rescue team at the mess hall.”

A flicker of exasperation from Kōmori. “Kid, you’re gonna put me out of a job here.”

She snorts. “I didn’t make him do it—he got the details first and acted. He’s a senior jōnin, so he’s allowed to do what he wants; if you don’t like it, then you do _your_ job better.”

“Ouch, I think that one's gonna leave a mark.”

She rolls her eyes at him and he follows her to intercept the returning traps and seals team.

They…they all look in pretty rough shape. The body bags are…lumpy. She feels sick.

“Kakashi!”

He looks up. There’s a dent on his hitai-ate where a rock (or piece of shrapnel) from the explosion hit him, and there are trails of blood coming from his ears. Ruptured, most likely.

“Yo, Honōka. Thanks for the swift response, yeah?”

She hugs him and he stiffens, then relaxes. He awkwardly pats her on the back.

“Are you okay?” She asks. He’s not, and she knows that already. She reluctantly lets go of him.

“I’m fine, promise.” He crosses his heart with an ‘x’.

He noticed something then. She doesn’t ask what, not out in the open.

Gaku limps over to them. Chairo’s fur is singed. “We made sure to bring back your partner, right Chairo?”

Chairo whines and licks his paw. She concentrates on pulling cool water from the air and runs it over his burned paw pads.

“I’m sorry, Chairo. Tsunade-san said I’m not allowed to heal anybody until I practice more.” She regrets not practicing more. Chairo pants and licks at the blob of water.

“Don’t worry, he appreciates the water more than anything, Honōka.”

Fugaku passes them, carrying one end of a body bag. His Sharingan actively spins and bloody tears stream down his face.

He’s hurting, badly.

Honōka glances from his eyes down to the fiery black ring of his lower dantian, cycling with a dangerously off kilter warp, and falls through the nexus.

She _looks_ at him. She didn’t mean to, but she did, and now she’s _burning._

Conversely, she’s freezing.

She’s also falling through what feels like water.

Above her is a red sky and the warped ring of the black flame that is Fugaku’s nexus moves farther and farther away. All around her is liminal space, filled to the brink with water, a common feature in most subconscious spaces, apparently.

But she’s never fallen into it before. There’s always been an island, or a mountain peak, or something to stand on.

She hits bottom. It’s sandy. The weight of the water above her is heavy. It burns and yet is freezing. It hurts, but she has to take a breath, even if it means drowning in it.

Honōka breathes in and chokes.

Images—memories—so crisp and clear, pour into her head. She sees Uchiha Utsusu, Fugaku’s dearest friend—in every stage of their life together—shove her (Fugaku) away and cover an explosive tag with his own body.

She screams, squeezes her eyes shut and covers her ears. Pain explodes in her head—in her eyes. Agony, excruciating _agony_ —and _fury, rage,_ and something _other._

It’s Obito on a bad day times a hundred; it’s the deeply unpleasant laughter of Tenko-sama; it’s Danzō’s greasy aura refined and made pure malice.

“Honōka, what the hell are you doing here?!”

She opens her eyes and slowly uncovers her ears. She’s still inside Fugaku’s liminal space—and now he is too.

“Fugaku-oji-san?” She sniffles. “What are you doing here?”

He scoffs at her. It’s not so intimidating when he has tears and snot running down his face too. It makes him look a little more his age.

“I should ask you the same—this is _my_ subconscious space.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to _look._ It just happens sometimes. I’m so sorry…!” And she really is.

Fugaku sniffles a little too, and rubs at his nose and bloody tear tracks. He clears his throat.

“It’s fine, kid. You’re not doing any harm by being here. I would know if you were, trust me.”

“But…I saw… Utsusu-san…”

He swallows thickly and more bloody tears fall. His Sharingan flickers, momentarily warping into something else.

“That’s…not surprising.” 

He doesn’t elaborate why, and they awkwardly stare at each other. He reluctantly takes a seat next to her on the sand.

“I tried evicting you, just now.” Fugaku says. “Anything?”

She shakes her head. “I didn’t even notice you trying.”

“Handy, that.”

She shrugs.

“Fugaku-oji-san…are you okay? Something felt, _awful,_ earlier.”

“You any good at keeping secrets?” Fugaku asks, sniffling again.

“The best.”

He snorts.

“Jaa, from one dōjutsu-shi to another: dōjutsu suck.”

She nods emphatically.

“The Sharingan is a bit weird." Fugaku continues. "It grows, or evolves. There are members of my clan who have had it three or four times longer than I have and never evolved it further than a futatsudomoe. Then there are people like Utsusu who got the mitsudomoe in a couple months.”

“It gets stronger in stages?”

“Yeah.”

She hopes her dōjutsu doesn’t. It hard enough to handle as it is.

Fugaku rubs his eyes again, and the three tomoe warp and spin again.

“There’s another stage, isn’t there?” Beyond the mitsudomoe stage.

“Mangekyō Sharingan.” The bloody tears fall again.

“Why are you fighting it?” She asks.

“My clan believes the only way to awaken the Mangekyō Sharingan is to kill your closest friend.”

Her heart plummets.

“But, that’s not what happened! Utsusu-san saved you! He…he pushed you away and willingly took the brunt of the explosion himself…!”

“Did he, though? Was he _really_ willing to die for me? I’m the clan heir and he’s just…he was just…he was my best friend, and I killed him…!”

She grabs Fugaku’s elbow and shakes him.

“Fugaku, you didn’t kill Utsusu. He died for you, but you did _not_ kill him.”

Fugaku opens his mouth to rebuke her and she shakes him again.

“You did **_not_** kill Utsusu. We all have someone we would protect at any cost—someone who we would willingly die for. You were that person, for Utsusu-san.”

Her voice trembles and tears stream down her face. Fugaku covers his eyes and lets out a hoarse sob. He cries, and she cries with him. 

The excruciating agony from earlier returns. But it’s just agony—no rage, or fury; no _hatred._ Fugaku’s bloody tears run clear and he wipes his face again.

His mitsudomoe, the three point Sharingan, finishes shifting. The three tomoe markings become black circles instead, and three shuriken like arms extend from the dark ring inside his irises.

“You won’t tell anyone about this?” he asks again, swallowing his tears. “The Sharingan or the Mangekyō?”

“I won’t.” 

“You’re sure?”

“A secret for a secret?” She offers.

He looks uncertain, but nods.

“I’ve lived before.”

“?!”

A jolt of shock runs through Fugaku. She knows she sounds crazy, but he believes her.

“I…” he shakes his head and chokes out a laugh. “Wow, kid—Honōka—not the kind of secret I was expecting to trade for.”

“You _absolutely_ cannot tell anybody—and I _absolutely_ will not tell anyone about the Mangekyō Sharingan.”

He nods.

“Have you told Orochimaru-san at least?”

She shakes her head.

“Kakashi? Minato?”

“No.”

“Then why tell _me_?”

She shrugs. “My name used to be Tachibana Tomoe. Your eyes remind me of that.”

“Wow. Just, wow.” He takes a shaky breath. “You collapsed, by the way. Just thought I should let you know.”

“I guess we should leave. Kakashi’s probably worried.”

“That Kōmori person looked like he was ready to keel over, too.”

“Sensei threatened to gut him if anything happens to me.”

“Couldn’t happen to a better guy.”

She laughs and Fugaku stands up. She doesn’t know how he can, with the weight of the water crushing down. But, she supposes, it _is_ his subconscious space.

He offers his hand out to her.

“Need some help getting out, kid?”

She nods and takes his hand.

She opens her eyes and slaps Kōmori’s hand out of her face. Kakashi worriedly hovers.

“Thank the gods!” Kōmori praises, then asks: “What in the hells happened to you?”

She sits up and Fugaku glances over his shoulder at her. His Mangekyō Sharingan flickers and deactivates faster than anyone without very keen eyes can track. He nods at her and continues on, carrying one end of a body bag.

Utsusu is carried to his semi-final resting place, a sealing scroll, by his best friend and another clan mate. She wipes her eyes and swallows down her pain and sorrow; for Utsusu—and for Fugaku.

Kakashi awkwardly offers his hand out and she grabs onto it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Futatsudomoe: two point Sharingan  
> Mitsudomoe: three point Sharingan  
> Tomoe: the comma shaped points in the Sharingan


	48. do your thing, little monster.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She shakes her head and attempts to concentrate again. She’s been having trouble focusing all week, come to think of it. She struggles for another moment but her fatigue just deepens.

Honōka walks with Kakashi to the field hospital, where she leaves him in Gaku’s capable hands.

“Still nothing from Orochi?” Kōmori asks.

She shakes her head. She’s not worried—because she can sense Sensei, and while he seems to be occupied with something moderately intense (likely battle, again) he does not seem worried.

She doesn’t know how long it will take Kohaku to pass on the message. She’s never asked him to before. Maybe whoever is carrying the message is waiting for Sensei to finish up with his battle, but she can’t afford to check. Her chakra is too low to attempt searching for an unfamiliar snake’s signature.

“Kōmori-san, I’m going to look for Danzō’s agents now.”

He nods. “You do your thing, little monster. I’ll keep an eye out while you do.”

They duck back into her team’s tent, and she sits on her open bedroll. She tries to hone in on the camp, but there are so many large signatures crammed in such a small area that it’s hard to focus on any one person for long. And she’s tired from being stuck on night shift all week too.

She hums unhappily.

“Hard to focus after a long shift, isn’t it? Feels like too much happening all at once?” Kōmori sympathizes. “Here, have another mouthful of coffee, just don’t tell Orochi I’m giving it to you. He’ll skin me alive if he finds out, but it’ll wake you up.”

Honōka takes the cannister he offers and unscrews the lid, taking a deep swig. It tastes nasty, like usual. Ash and tar and a curious dirty socks after taste. Just, terrible. And extremely bitter.

She shakes her head and attempts to concentrate again. She’s been having trouble focusing all week, come to think of it. She struggles for another moment, but her fatigue just deepens.

Honōka frowns. She’s been drinking Kōmori’s foul ash and tar coffee concoction all week too. It usually starts perking her up by now.

She blinks rapidly and slumps over. A numb sort of panic sets in.

“Kōmori…!” She slurs, and her anger boils over for having been so thoroughly fooled! Her mouth refuses to form words or even a scream. She hisses at him rather pathetically instead.

He pets her on the head, smiling serenely. Her eyes flutter and she fights to glare up at the traitor.

“Sorry, little monster; Danzō-sama’s orders. Things are running _too_ smoothly for Orochi with you around.”

From this angle she spies Danzō’s seal on the underside of his tongue; the same one Sensei showed her and told her to watch out for.

She hisses weakly and frustrated tears gather in her eyes. She can’t even mold chakra now, thanks to whatever Kōmori dosed her with.

The bastard continues petting her hair, and she curses herself for not noticing the absolutely dead look in his eyes until just now.

“Don’t worry, _little oni_ , you’re not dying—not today, at least. You see, Danzō-sama is very interested in your kekkei genkai…”

Honōka feels sick.

They’ve been telling Kōmori all about her kekkei genkai—what they know about it—and he already knows Shinku potentially has it as well. Not only that, they trusted him with their suspicions on Danzō. So Danzō knows _everything._ Any chance they had of surprising him and any advantages they thought they had are _gone!_

She searches for his nexus point, but it’s blurry and slides between her fingers when she reaches for it. Her head droops and between one breath and another, unconsciousness takes her.

Orochimaru and Minato finish painting the battlefield red. It’s not a rewarding experience for anyone with even a modicum of sanity—and therefore a certain amount of teenage angst is to be expected from someone like Minato who ‘feels the consequences of his actions deeply’. Or so his student says. How she can categorize different flavors of empathy is beyond him.

He pulls Minato away before he can fully internalize the breadth of the carnage they’ve wrought. Orochimaru feels satisfied, if only for the fact that they’re leaving behind a level of destruction that is truly staggering. He thinks, when Iwa discovers it, they will perhaps reconsider flirting with Konoha’s borders.

The battle itself was rather unexpected, a surprise assault from a large force of Iwa-nin in a bottlenecked valley. The overwhelming numbers unfortunately mean the remaining six members of their team will have to be packed up in scrolls. He doesn’t dwell on it and methodically begins sealing them. There are more immediate concerns.

Such as how the Iwa-nin were able to sneak up on them. The entire situation screams ‘set-up’.

“Orochimaru-sama.”

He looks up from the body he’s sealing. A jet black snake with a white chin slithers from the underbrush.

“Shunkuro,” he greets, surprised. Shunkuro is reputedly the fastest snake in Ryūchi Cave, despite his small size. “Honōka-kun sent you?”

The snake nods. “Is it acceptable to pass on a message in the present company?”

He nods.

“The one with the cross shaped scar has moved.”

Minato startles from his morose contemplations.

“What? Where?!”

Shunkuro flicks his tongue unhappily. “That I cannot tell you. It was not part of my message.”

“Is that all, Shunkuro?”

He flicks his tongue again. “Is there a message you would like me to return?”

“No. We will take it from here.”

Shunkuro nods. “Very well. Until we meet again, Orochimaru-sama.”

The snake disappears in a faint wisp of smoke.

He seals the last body and Minato places a hand on his back, transporting them without another word. In three separate jumps, they arrive back at the border camp.

Minato wobbles on the last jump, and Orochimaru steadies him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Running low?” He asks. They did face off against a nearly three hundred strong company of Iwa-nin, virtually unprepared.

Minato nods. “I was running low even before that battle broke out…”

He hands him one of his homemade soldier pills.

“Do not complain about the taste.”

Minato takes it and bites into it, then nearly spits it out again.

“Honōka ate it without complaint,” he reminds him. “I am sure you can do the same.”

“Ugh…” he swallows it with a shiver. “That was… _different.”_

He snorts. It works. That’s what matters. He’ll consider working on the taste when he has the spare time.

Torifu spots them.

“Orochimaru, Minato. Right on time, I’m afraid. Kakashi-kun is at the field hospital—and is being difficult.”

Minato pales. “Field hospital? What happened, Torifu-san?”

“Traps and seals ran into trouble across the border earlier. It got Uchiha Utsusu and Aburame Shiken.”

“Is Kakashi alright?!”

“Busted eardrums and a concussion. Nothing serious.”

Minato sighs his relief. “How’s Honōka-chan?”

Torifu shrugs. “She was walking him to the field hospital last I saw her. Didn’t seem too upset—but it’s hard to tell with that one sometimes, ain’t it?”

Minato awkwardly laughs. “I guess we’ll go see how they’re doing.”

“You do that.”

They fast walk to the field hospital, where they find Kakashi kicking up a stink.

“Minato-sensei, Orochimaru-sensei!” He calls. “Tell these pinheads I’m fine!”

“Kakashi!” Minato scolds. “You can’t call your allies pinheads…!”

“But I’m fine now and they won’t let me leave!” He waves his hand dramatically in a vaguely ‘x’ shaped pattern. He has information on the supposed ‘trouble’ across the border—first hand, most likely.

“We’ll take him off your hands, since he’s being so rude.” Minato placates the irate medic-nin.

“Just make sure he understands he can’t get any water in his ears for the next week. We healed the ruptures in his eardrums, but they’re still fragile.”

“Got it, right, Kakashi? You hate taking baths anyway.”

“Hey! That’s not true, Minato-sensei…!”

They leave the field hospital and he glances down at Kakashi, who is sulking with his arms crossed. He has quite the dent on his hitai-ate. He’s lucky he didn’t lose an eye.

“Where is Honōka-kun?”

“She left with Kōmori-san." Kakashi grumbles. "She wanted to get started on looking for the culprits.”

“I suppose you have something to contribute on that front?”

He nods.

“It was a trap that continually summoned explosive tags—like in the Second Hokage’s journal.”

So, a trap laid by someone familiar with the Second Hokage. Considering Danzō was a student of the Second Hokage, it’s really not surprising that he would teach such methods to his agents.

They head to the Intelligence Division next. Kōmori is just leaving the tent, alone. He frowns.

“Kōmori, where is Honōka-kun?”

He yawns. “At the tent? I was just heading over to check on her.”

He glares at Kōmori.

“You left her alone? _Now,_ of all times?”

“Hey now, get off my back. It was just for a minute, Orochi. I still have an Intelligence Division to run, you know?”

He rolls his eyes at him. The Intelligence Division can fully operate unsupervised, despite what Kōmori thinks.

“Come on then,” Kakashi prods Minato and Kōmori along. “Let’s go!”

“Watch it, kid! Some of us aren’t made of steal, unlike you monsters.”

“Move faster then, old man!”

“I’m barely older than Orochi!”

He scoffs. “If you consider a decade a brief span of time.”

They reach the tent and Kakashi’s normally slouchy poster suddenly straightens. He throws open the tent flap and _growls._ Orochimaru feels every muscle in his body tensing.

“Honōka’s not here!”

“What do you mean she’s not here?” Kōmori sputters. “She was showing up on the Sensing Barrier before I left the Intelligence Division!”

Minato enters and quickly finds a poorly concealed talisman. Tsunemori Honōka is written on it, a drop of blood in a central circle. A dummy signature. He clenches his jaw.

“It’s still wet,” Minato says. “She can’t be far… Let’s go!”

He can hear Kakashi snuffing through his mask, undoubtedly committing to memory any foreign scents. He picks up an out-of-place cannister, tucked inside Honōka's bedroll, and unscrews it. His nose scrunches, wrinkling the dark material over it.

The boy’s eyes widen, and he snarls at Kōmori.

“Well, shit. That was careless of me.”

Minato turns on Kōmori and promptly immobilizes him with a quick twist of the arm, planting a Hiraishin seal on him for good measure.

Kakashi dutifully brings him the canister and he waifs the scent of the concoction under his nose. Coffee, refined valerian root, and opium extract. If Honōka drank more than a mouthful of this crude concoction, she could be in danger of asphyxiating. He feels his cheek muscle spasming.

Orochimaru is very close to snarling himself. But getting angry is what Kōmori wants, is what _Danzō_ wants. So, he tempers down his rage until it becomes a cold fury.

“Kōmori… Would you mind sticking you tongue out for me?”

The bastard laughs and does as asked, baring the underside of his tongue instead.

Minato and Kakashi see what he sees—the same seal he showed them on his own tongue.

He drives a senbon through it, and Kōmori pops. A shadow clone. He thought as much.

“Orochimaru-san…! He’ll know we’re coming for him now!”

 _“Perfect._ Are you ready to go hunting, Kakashi-kun?”

Sakumo’s boy pulls his mask down and bares his teeth, or what he has of them. Like Honōka, he’s missing most of his front teeth. He’d laugh if the situation didn't call for immediate action.

He is not in a laughing mood.

“I’ll tear his throat out myself if he hurt Honōka!”

“My thoughts exactly, Kakashi-kun. Minato, let’s **go**.”


	49. major renovations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He boops her on the nose with one finger and then holds the rag over her mouth and nose. She breathes shallowly for as long as she can, fighting the urge to yawn and take a deeper breath.
> 
> “I’d be a pretty shit spy if I couldn’t convince people to like me long enough to trust me, little oni.”

Honōka blinks in and out of consciousness. She’s nauseous and confused—and being carried in a literal potato sack is not helping either of those things. The dust and dirt clinging to the canvas sack makes her sneeze and she nearly throws up.

Maybe she should? She would probably feel better if she did, she thinks.

The ground suddenly hits her. She hits the ground? She groans. Kōmori pulls the potato sack down over her head and she squints at the noonday sun.

“You’ve got a fast metabolism, little oni. Has Orochi been feeding you poison to build up your immunities already?”

She doesn’t respond. She’d like to think she can pretend to be out of it long enough to get the jump on him, but she can’t feel her shoulders, let alone her fingers, and Kōmori is soaking a rag in some suspect liquid. Hopefully not chloroform. She knows that one—and it’s dangerous even when administered professionally with an inhaler, never mind as an unknown dosage administered with a scrap of cloth.

“You…you’re not like Danzō’s other agents…the emotionless ones…”

He boops her on the nose with one finger and then holds the rag over her mouth and nose. She breathes shallowly for as long as she can, fighting the urge to yawn and take a deeper breath.

“I’d be a pretty shit spy if I couldn’t convince people to like me long enough to trust me, little oni.”

Her eyes roll and she struggles to hold on to her lucidity for a few more seconds.

“You could say I’m the very best at what I do…” Kōmori laughs, tonelessly. “And I’ve been around the block a few times at my age. Do you know what happens to old spies—like me—who get too good at what they do, little oni?”

She blinks furiously, vision rapidly darkening. Not in an eigengrau kind of way either.

Kōmori leans over her, dry lips scraping the shell of her ear as he whispers to her. 

“…they get put down, like an old hunting dog that's outlived its usefulness…”

It’s been quite a few years since Orochimaru witnessed a Hatake in action. Sakumo once joked that his sense of smell was never the same after changing his son’s hundredth dirty diaper. He thinks it’s more likely that the man never truly recovered his instinctual drive after his partner died.

An instinctual drive that he did not fully realize Kakashi had inherited, if he’s being completely honest. And one that he fully appreciates now.

Minato veers to the right and Kakashi _barks_ at him.

“That one’s a fake! Leave it!”

Minato quickly rejoins them.

“I wish I could help more,” he says, “but using Sage Mode with questionable chakra reserves is never a good idea. Not to mention it still takes me some time to properly balance and combine my chakra with nature chakra…”

“I think Kakashi-kun is doing fine on his own, don’t you, Minato?”

“…” Minato glances at him as they flank Kakashi, who is setting a good pace.

“Yes?” He asks.

“Orochimaru-san…how can you be so calm right now?”

“Do I look calm to you?”

He nods.

Orochimaru snorts. “What good am I to Honōka if I stomp my feet and get angry, Minato? What good are _you_ to her if you cry about what you can or cannot do? Look at Kakashi-kun. Now tell me, what do you see?”

“Um…he’s really—motivated?”

“Indeed,” he dryly responds. “Kakashi-kun has taken his anger and frustration and channeled it into the single-minded focus required to track down and rescue Honōka.”

Minato bites his cheek.

“I…I’m just so worried—I keep thinking about what happens to Honōka-chan if we don’t stop Kōmori.”

“And what will you do if that happens?”

Minato shoots him a startled look.

“I’ll keep fighting to get her back, obviously! I don’t care if Danzō has a secret army or if he really has the village’s approval—which I do _not_ believe for one second!—I’ll even fight him myself if I have to!”

“Then what on earth are you worried for? I highly doubt there is any force in Konoha that can come between you and your precious people.”

Minato gawks at him.

“…You really think so, Orochimaru-san?”

He scoffs at the bloody teenager. No self-confidence at all. He must work on that, since Jiraiya clearly did the boy a disservice somewhere.

“Minato, I _hate_ repeating myself.”

“R-right!” His expression firms up. “How close are we, Kakashi?”

“Two or three km, tops. He’s been slowing down.”

The midday sun has been abnormally warm today, and Kōmori is not an endurance type.

Minato tosses down a Hiraishin kunai.

“Kakashi, I want you to grab Honōka-chan the moment we clear the way for you; I’ll transport you both back to this point and rejoin Orochimaru-san—”

“No.”

“But, Orochimaru-san—”

“Kōmori is not a skilled fighter. I am more than capable of handling him. You will take both Kakashi-kun and Honōka back to the camp. Immediately have Honōka evaluated by the medical-nin but do not, under any circumstance, leave her alone with anyone.”

Minato opens his mouth to argue again. He cuts him off.

“I do not have faith in Kōmori’s drug related skills—and too often have I seen young children perish from questionable sedatives.” He can say no more, even if he wanted to.

Kakashi growls. “Sensei, whatever that bastard dosed her with smelled really strong…and Honōka gulps everything she eats or drinks…we gotta get her back to the field hospital as soon as possible…!”

“…!” Minato grimaces. “Fine! But take one of my Hiraishin with you, just in case. If you don’t return in half an hour I’m coming back for you!”

“Very well.”

Kakashi scowls.

“We wouldn’t be having this problem if Honōka brought your Hiraishin with her on this stupid mission.”

Minato nods. “She brought your lucky kunai instead.”

They both sigh.

It’s a short-lived moment of their tensions being eased by the ridiculous decision-making skills of their favorite troublemaker.

“There!” Kakashi snarls. “Dead ahead!”

They break into a clear stretch and Kōmori glances over his shoulder and winks. He splits into eight separate illusionary clones—which means nothing to Kakashi.

“Second from the left! Minato-sensei! Your ten o’clock!”

Minato engages him first, grabbing for the potato sack bundled under one arm. Orochimaru can tell that knowing it might be Honōka is adversely affecting the level of force Minato is willing to use.

He jumps in and drives a senbon under Kōmori’s arm, through the gap in his flak jacket and wire-mesh armor. The needle snaps off before he can drive it through his heart. Pity.

Kōmori drops the potato sack with (hopefully) his student inside it—and not another dummy signature.

Minato grabs the bundle out of the air and retreats to Kakashi’s side. He pulls the canvas sack off, revealing his unconscious student. Kakashi nods and Orochimaru stops watching them from the corner of his eye.

Kōmori pivots to run away and he knees him in the gut.

“What did I tell you, Kōmori? ‘Cross me and I will find you—and _gut_ you.’”

Kōmori coughs and rolls away from the axe kick he was about to drop on his solar plexus. He gets to his feet, unsteadily. He’s laughing, a wet and wheezing sound that tells Orochimaru his broken senbon penetrated at least one lung.

“I was kind of hoping it would take you maybe a little longer to do the finding part of that threat, honestly.” He clears his throat, but there is no blood, yet. “I guess I was expecting a game of Kakure-Oni, but you were more interested in Onigokko. I should have known, you always were forward.”

He holds his temper.

“Minato. **Go.”**

“…I _will_ come back for you if you take too long, Orochimaru-san!”

Minato and the children disappear in an instant.

Kōmori chuckles, inching back slowly. “Looking to get me alone, have your way with me one last time before you kill me? I’m flattered, Orochi. I really am.” He tenses to run.

He flickers behind him and drives his elbow into his back. Kōmori hits the ground like a ton of bricks.

“It’s pointless to even try running from me.”

“It is, isn’t it? What’d you even have on that needle? It feels like my face is melting.”

“A one-one hundredth dilute of Manda’s venom.”

“Well, shit. You really must hate me now, huh?”

He hums. “Get up, Kōmori, so I can gut you properly.”

“Won’t even get on your knees for me—!”

He delivers a well-placed kick near the broken off senbon.

 ** _“Don’t.”_** He hisses. “You make me _sick,_ Kōmori.”

Kōmori coughs, and this time there is blood on his lips.

“Aren’t you curious, Orochi?” Another cough. “You, Danzō-sama’s precious snake; me, his pet spy… it’s obvious who wins in this situation.”

“…”

“Danzō-sama is cleaning house—trimming up all his loose ends. I don’t know what he’s planning next, but he’s letting you live for a reason, don’t you think?”

Most likely for his experiments on Mokuton. Danzō is terribly interested in the First Hokage’s regeneration factor. It’s not surprising, really, but how Danzō expects to force him to continue when he gets back to Konoha is anyone's guess. Root’s Cursed Tongue Eradication Seal is not a coercive force—only a protection method against the agents of Root speaking out against Danzō.

But now, thanks to Honōka’s charades method, Minato knows enough about the situation to fight it—and if Sarutobi-sensei is being influenced, as he was, Honōka is capable of stripping away the layers of genjutsu and any conditional brainwashing.

“You’re probably thinking you can fight him; that you can fight the entire foundation. But you’re wrong, Orochi. The roots of the tree stretch far and deep. You’ll never know who to trust for so long as you live…you’d have to burn the entire village down to bedrock and start over from scratch.”

He grabs Kōmori by the collar and lifts him up.

“Are you suggesting I destroy the village, Kōmori?”

“…Just saying it’s an option,” he slurs. “Someone as powerful as you could do it—easily.”

He could…with Honōka and Minato and Kakashi at his side, it would only take a couple years to lay the plans…they could run now and start preparing immediately. Konohagakure is rotten to its core and nothing he says to Sensei can change it—because Sensei _is_ the rotten core…

Orochimaru blinks.

He’s standing waist deep in the chilling water of a large lake. He sees in the far distance indistinguishable land masses, and behind him, an island.

He takes a step deeper into the water and frowns. What on earth is he doing? He hurriedly backs out of the water and steps onto the island’s rocky beach.

He frowns. How did he even get here? What was he just doing? Is this a dream? Genjutsu? _Kai!_

…Not genjutsu, then.

But not reality, either. He’s not sure how he knows this, but it feels as certain to him as his own name.

He looks around.

Something on the rocky beach catches his eyes. A message laid out with reddish stones on a primarily gray beach.

“'I love you, Sensei'…exclamation mark.” He reads aloud and laughs.

Orochimaru looks around again. He supposes this is inside his lower dantian, the liminal space beyond the nexus his student talks about. And, clearly, she’s been doing some minor redecorating with him unawares.

He shakes his head, fondly.

Kōmori’s head nods. Manda’s venom no doubt coursing throughout most of his body now.

Orochimaru drops a kunai into one palm and drives it into Kōmori’s stomach, expertly avoiding cutting open his stomach or intestines. His liver is not so lucky.

“I have no interest in destroying the Leaf, Kōmori. As for Sensei, I think it is high time for him to retire. And I will gladly be the one to receive the hat from him. I think my first job in office will be to make plans for some _major_ renovations in Konoha—the underground _sewage_ system is absolutely _vile._ It must be redone from scratch.”

Kōmori chokes out a startled laugh that turns into a gasp of pain. Blood runs down his chin.

“Atta boy, Orochi…stick it to ‘em!” 

His head droops, forehead resting on Orochimaru’s shoulder. He takes another labored breath.

“…not everything was a lie, you know? I really did…he never said I _had_ to seduce you…”

“…”

“…”

Orochimaru closes his eyes against the sudden sting and gently lowers Kōmori’s lifeless body to the ground.

“…I was the one seducing _you,_ you old bat…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kakure-Oni: Hide and seek  
> Onigokko: Tag


	50. “Let’s call it a revolution, ‘kay?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “…Honōka, are you planning on raising an army?” Orochimaru asks.
> 
> She gestures with that blasted ‘so-so’ sign and now he’s the one covering his face with his hands. You can’t be ‘so-so’ about raising an army!

The sun is sets by the time she opens her eyes again. She still feels nauseous, but the confusion from before is less thick and syrupy. 

So she knows she’s safe—that she’s back at the border camp in her own tent. There’s an IV stand set up for her and a large tarp spread across the dirt to keep her off the ground, and she’s lying in a double layered futon instead of her scratchy bedroll.

Her stomach and throat are sore, so she guesses her stomach was pumped while she was unconscious.

She curls her toes until they crack and Kakashi snaps upright next to her. He was sleeping curled on the edge of her futon and hurriedly pulls his mask up. She rubs her eyes.

“You have a beauty mark on your chin.”

“…it’s a mole.”

She rolls onto her back and sits up, being careful of her IV. Someone had thoughtfully arranged her in the recovery position, probably so she didn’t throw up and choke herself while unconscious. It was either Sensei or the medic-nin, but most likely Sensei.

She tests her chakra levels. Stable, but very low.

“…Kōmori-san is dead, isn’t he?”

Kakashi hums in his throat, unhappily. “Yeah. He is.”

“…”

“…”

She traces the quilted squares on the futon cover for a moment.

“What happens next?”

Kakashi shrugs one shoulder.

“We told Kōmori-san everything… Danzō knows everything.”

“Minato-sensei and Orochimaru-sensei will figure something out.”

She swallows. Tears prickle in her eyes. She wishes they could all run away, the four of them…plus Rin and Obito and Guy…and Tsunade-san and Dan-san…Gaku-nī-san and Fugaku-oji-san…Kōen, Shinku, Sachiko-nē-san… The list goes on and on, because she has so many precious people in Konoha, and her precious people all have precious people of their own, and she couldn’t bear to leave any of them behind either.

Kakashi sees her wobbling lip and trembling hands and silently offers out his hand to hold. She grabs onto it and squeezes.

He squeezes back.

“Everything’s going to work out, Honōka. Our senseis won’t stop until it does.”

She sniffles. “Then we won’t either.”

Kakashi nods. “And I swear I won’t leave your side until we’re done with Danzō.” 

Kakashi offers out his pinky finger and she laughs, blinking watery eyes. She takes the offered pinky swear.

“Until we’re done with Danzō.” She repeats, solemnly.

Orochimaru and Minato sit outside the tent, idly staring into the embers of a dying bonfire. He's frankly at a total loss on how to even begin salvaging the current situation.

Danzō controls all the pieces and is ‘cleaning house’, so to speak. It’s only a matter of time before Danzō moves against him, publicly, and he has all the evidence he needs to put the noose around Orochimaru’s neck.

He needs allies, and yet he _does not know who to trust_. It leaves a sour taste in his mouth, and he feels as though he can feel the lines of the Root seal scraping along the roof of his mouth each time he swallows. He lays down his cup of lukewarm tea and sighs.

Minato glances up from his own cup of tea. He’s usually a coffee drinker but, given the present circumstances, he can’t fault the boy for being turned off the drink.

Kakashi peeks out at them. He’s pulled his mask up again, perhaps to dull his sense of smell. Orochimaru would not be surprised if Minato has worked filtering seals into the fabric for him.

“Honōka’s awake. She wants to talk to everyone.”

Minato frowns, but he just nods. Despite his student’s frequently flippant attitude, she is a true schemer. He hopes his little schemer has a plan.

She’s nibbling at a bowl of plain rice and Orochimaru wordlessly praises Kakashi with a pat on the head, which the boy responds to with a baleful half-glare.

“How are you feeling, Honōka-chan?”

“My stomach hurts and I’ve got a really bad headache.”

He sits next to his student and pats her on the head too. She also responds with a half-glare-half-pout.

“I imagine what you are feeling right now is comparable to a hangover. Something to consider if you ever pick up drinking as a hobby, yes?”

“Don’t worry, Sensei. I am never, _ever,_ drinking alcohol— ** _ever_**.”

His lip quirks. “And why is that?”

“Tsunade-san showed me what liver damage from excessive alcohol consumption looks like. It’s gross.”

Pot, meet kettle, he thinks—because Tsunade would definitely be qualified to attest to the dangers of over imbibing, personally.

“So, you wanted to talk to us, Honōka-chan?”

She nods.

“Danzō knows pretty much everything, so our plan to take him out on the sly is as good as ruined. It also means Sensei’s in danger of being sentenced for using forbidden techniques and committing crimes under his orders.”

They all look at her with various levels of disbelief and shock. Himself included. He suspected she knew _some_ of what he does, but…not to this degree.

She pouts at their reaction. “I have two eyes, you know—even if one of them doesn’t technically work.”

Kakashi narrows his eyes at him like it is somehow his fault Honōka is the way she is.

“Um…Honōka-chan? How long have you known about Orochimaru-san being, well, morally questionable?”

She shrugs. Shrugs!

“Gut feeling right from the start. But mostly after I figured out how to use my sensor ability.”

So much for him moving his ‘morally questionable’ experiments away from the lab.

“So, Sensei’s in danger of being implicated in crimes that Konoha technically sanctioned him to commit, which is stupid. Danzō and those two couch ninja are responsible for ordering the research, not Sensei.”

“Couch ninja…?” Minato dares ask.

“Mitokado Homura and Utatane Koharu.”

Minato covers his face.

“Honōka-chan…you can’t call our respected elders couch ninja…?”

“I can and I will. They’re either being brainwashed like Hokage-sama, or are too stupid to notice it happening. Or worse—they're complicit in the crimes being committed by Danzō. Even Biwako-obā-san knows _something_ is wrong with Hokage-sama, though I think _she_ thinks he had a stroke…”

Kakashi winces, and Minato continues covering his face, now shaking his head as well. Orochimaru is uncertain if she realizes she just implied Biwako-san is also 'stupid', or if that was her intention all along.

“Ahh…! I can feel my faith slipping away…” Minato mumbles behind his hands. “What do I do, Orochimaru-sensei? I don’t want to become a hermit like Jiraiya-sensei!”

“I’m considering it myself at this point.” 

“So, Sensei’s in danger, Minato’s in danger—Danzō clearly wouldn’t mind you being gone if he accepted the possibility of you dying on a mission with Sensei—”

“ _Great_ , thanks for letting me know, Honōka-chan.” Minato groans and Orochimaru wonders when he had time to learn sarcasm.

“—And he’s interested in me and Kakashi because we’re young prodigies with vulnerable and exploitable living conditions."

“Is that all?” He asks, dryly.

“We need allies.”

Kakashi reluctantly nods. Minato uncovers his face.

“But…who?”

“I’ve got some people in mind.”

He holds up his hand and nearly scowls at himself. Minato does it so often that he's picked up the damn habit himself.

“Yes, Sensei?” Honōka smirks.

Cheeky brat.

“We cannot be certain of any _allies_ right now. It’s clear that—” he draws an ‘x’ in the air, “has many _plants_ that are not the emotionless kind that you can so easily identify. _Plants_ like myself and Kōmori.”

She twiddles her thumbs.

“You know how I can see into the lower dantian, the nexus point, and enter the subconscious liminal space…? And I know I said I could only like, break genjutsu or see big things like Tenko-sama…but…”

They all nod and Kakashi impatiently gestures for her to get on with it.

“Icanseememoriestoo—andotherthings.”

“What...?” Minato asks.

She takes a deep breath.

“When I go inside someone else’s liminal space, I sometimes experience their memories. There’s a trigger I’m still trying to figure out, because it’s only happened a couple times so far, but I’m pretty sure I know that if I try it with someone who has Danzō’s seal, nothing will happen. Because I kind of hang out in Sensei’s space when he’s close enough to link with and it’s too noisy outside… I can’t sense what’s happening outside of liminal spaces when I’m inside them so it’s the closest I can get to turning off my stupid kekkei genkai… And like I said, I can’t interact with Sensei’s trigger so it’s the safest liminal space I can hijack.”

Hijack. _What?_

She suddenly bows deeply to Kakashi.

“I’m really sorry, Kakashi. I…saw something I shouldn’t have and I swear I didn’t do it on purpose, but I’m still guilty of invading your privacy so I’m really, _really,_ sorry.”

Then she bows to Minato, shallowly.

“Sorry! Your whole liminal space is one big trigger, basically. Except the wharf. I fell in once, but I’m pretty sure you were just daydreaming about Kushina-san’s home cooking. You talk about it enough so it didn’t feel like a big enough secret to worry about. Her mushroom zōsui _tastes_ so good!”

_What??_

Then she bows her head to him. Inclines her chin slightly, really.

“…In my defense, I’ve been fixing your liminal space. You're welcome!”

He crosses his arms at her, mouth twitching as he tries to look stern.

“By writing notes on the beach?”

Her jaw drops and she flushes. She turns her nose up at him and harrumphs.

“It helped. Kōmori…used a trigger phrase to illicit a response from—” he draws ‘x’ again, “mental conditioning. I felt myself slipping but ended up getting distracted by the changes to my subconscious space instead.”

She grins. “See! You're welcome!”

“…You didn’t check Kōmori’s liminal space?” Minato asks. “You know, to compare?”

“He noticed every time I tried, and would tell me to buzz off in tap code.”

Knowing what he knows about the Cursed Tongue Eradication Seal, it is likely that any intrusions to the subconscious spaces meant to access memories would be blocked. As such, he’ll take that as a reliable method for detecting further Root agents.

“Who do you have in mind?” He asks.

“Torifu-san. Kōmori-san didn’t sound happy about his quick response to the traps and seals team and their immediate rescue… That probably means another plant was meant to pick off Kakashi in the confusion.”

Kakashi shivers.

“Have you checked Torifu’s liminal space?”

She nods. “His trigger doesn’t feel unapproachable like yours does.”

“Who else?”

“Fugaku-oji-san and Gaku-nī-san.”

He nods. 

“The Inoshikachō trio are probably a good idea too. I still need to check them though; I was tired when I met them, so I didn’t bother looking at their liminal spaces. But, if we can get them on our side, that’s five high-profile clans—and most of the village’s manpower. Not to mention the most wealthy triad.”

“…Honōka, are you planning on raising an army?” Orochimaru asks.

She gestures with that blasted ‘so-so’ sign, and now he’s the one covering his face with his hands. You can’t be ‘so-so’ about raising an army!

“Oh. Are we planning a coup d’état?” Minato asks. He’s not being sarcastic this time, which means he’s genuinely interested.

“Sounds like it, Minato-sensei.”

Honōka scowls at them.

“Let’s call it a revolution, ‘kay?”


	51. ‘our side’

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fugaku glowers at her and shows them his right palm, where the kanji for friend is glowing faintly. “This had better come off.”
> 
> She claps excitedly and points to it. “Sensei, look what I did!”

They take the night off, and the next morning they’re up at the crack of dawn ready to being plotting anew. 

“Who should we start with?” Minato asks. He’s just finished setting up a privacy barrier that she can’t see or sense at all. But it's Minato's, so it's probably the best.

“Fugaku-oji-san.” She immediately responds.

Sensei glances at her, curious.

“Yesterday—” and it’s hard to believe how much everything changed in just one day, “I accidentally fell through Fugaku-oji-san’s nexus. He noticed,” because of his Sharingan, “and followed me through.”

“I imagine he was not thrilled about that.” Sensei drawls.

“He didn’t mind, actually. Accidents happen with dōjutsu, and I wasn’t doing any harm.”

Sensei feels inordinately pleased by that. She can tell his estimates of Fugaku’s character have just substantially increased. He’s definitely going to try cajoling Fugaku into helping her with her dōjutsu later.

“Anyway, Fugaku-oji-san is close enough to link with—and he notices when I do. I’ll ask him to come over and bring Gaku-nī-san with him.”

“Is that really a good idea—”

She locates the fiery black ring of Fugaku’s lower dantian and drops into it.

The water isn’t as high as it was yesterday, so she has time to prepare herself and lands on the surface of the trigger rather than falling straight through it. Honōka still doesn’t know how to control what she sees, so she usually ends up seeing whatever is closest to the forefront, and she'd rather not intrude twice in twenty four-hours.

She looks up at the red sky and the ring of black flames. It’s still slightly warped, but not spinning dangerously off kilter today.

“Fugaku-oji-san?” She calls.

He appears next to her, a surly glare on his face.

“Please stop calling me ‘oji-san’.” He sighs, then a thought strikes him and his eyes narrow. “Are you actually older than me?”

She almost laughs. He thinks she’s teasing him because she’s older than him. She’s not.

“Tomoe would be twenty-three—but I’m not Tomoe. I’m Honōka, and Honōka is seven. Therefore, I’m allowed to be a kid and call you old.” She sticks her tongue out at him, childishly, to prove her point.

His cheek twitches. “Being a kid again isn’t an excuse to be rude to your elders, brat.”

She shrugs.

“I have a request, Fugaku-oji-san.”

He sighs again and crosses his arms.

“Alright, lets hear it.”

“Shimura Danzō is a threat to Konoha and I’m planning on deposing him.”

Fugaku gawks at her, a sharp jolt of shock passing through him. _“What?!”_

“He’s manipulating Hokage-sama with powerful genjutsu and stealing vulnerable children from orphanages and battlefields.”

“He’s _what!?_ Kid—Honōka—where are you getting this information from?!”

“Sensei is one of his…plants? Sensei can’t say much, though. He’s been sealed against most forms of communication on anything Danzō related.”

“…!” Fugaku swallows, glancing at her with fearful disbelief. He’s already not sure if he wants to know more. She can’t blame him, really. “Why are you telling me this, kid?”

“We need help taking him down, and I think the Uchiha would be very interested in what’s behind his bandages.”

Fugaku pales. “You don’t mean…?”

“When you awakened your Mangekyō Sharingan yesterday, it felt a lot like Danzō’s aura.” Not anymore, but definitely at first. She wonders why that is.

Fugaku covers his mouth and swears—which seems kind of pointless.

“We’re having a meeting at our tent if you want to join us. Bring Gaku-nī-san too, he doesn’t notice me at all when I enter his subconscious space. I have to go scout out the Inoshikachō trio next.”

Fugaku massages the corners of his lips, like he can rub away his frowning jowls.

“Start with Inoichi. He’s a bit of a sissy, but he’ll at least notice you poking around.”

“Mean, but thanks for the advice!” She turns to leave but remembers the privacy barrier. “Oh, Fugaku-oji- _chan_!”

“What now, _brat?”_

“Hand.”

He glances at her beckoning hand and reluctantly offers his out.

“Minato set up a privacy barrier,” she explains, taking his hand and turning it palm up. “Here’s the password.” She finger spells ‘tomo’, friend, on his palm. “See you in a bit! Don’t forget to bring Gaku-nī-san!”

“…good idea, Honōka-chan?”

“Fugaku-oji-san is in. He’ll bring Gaku-nī-san with him.”

Minato gawps at her.

“You told him? Already?!”

She flashes him a thumbs up. “Dōjutsu are awesome, sometimes.”

“Only sometimes?” Sensei snipes, amused.

She blows a raspberry at him and he snorts. She’s going to get him with the bubble jutsu once she desensitizes him to her cheeks puffing up. 

“I’m contacting Yamanaka Inoichi next. Fugaku-oji-chan said he would notice me.”

Minato kneels down and reaches for her.

“Honōka-chan, don’t—”

Inoichi’s lower dantian is a ring of swirling water, like Minato’s, but instead of the water flowing into the nexus and liminal space, it flows out. She has to fight the force of the streaming water to enter it.

And when she does, she lands in a mirror maze. She frowns. Weird.

“Yamanaka Inoichi-san!” She yells. “I need to talk to you!”

“…”

She can tell he’s here, but not where. Her sensor ability doesn’t really work the same way in liminal spaces. She can still tell what the occupants are feeling, just not where they’re feeling them from.

“Inoichi-san!” She pouts. “I know you’re in here, somewhere—”

An arm pops out of the mirror next to her and yanks her through it. She screams and falls straight through the mirror, landing on her face in a large flower garden fenced with purple bush clover.

She scrabbles to her feet and stares up at Inoichi. His hair is up in a messy bun and his Konoha flak jacket is missing. In fact, he’s only wearing his pants and mesh armor.

She covers her eyes, scowling at him. “Ugh! Why are you not appropriate?”

He sputters at her and his appearance abruptly changes. Neat.

“Why are you attacking me in my sleep?!”

Oops.

“It’s daytime.” She defends.

“Yeah, and some of us were on night watch after that damn stunt your Sensei pulled in Kusa yesterday…!”

She shrugs. Not her fault, really. She lets him stew for a moment. He has a rather unexpected temper for someone so mild looking. He seemed kind of bubbly yesterday, too.

“Alright. What do you want with me?”

She hums. Inoichi crosses his arms at her, utterly unimpressed.

“Shimura Danzō is a threat to Konoha and I’m planning on deposing him.”

Inoichi just stares at her without blinking.

“Shimura Danzō… That old creep on the council?”

She nods. She likes Inoichi’s estimation skills already.

“But, he’s _so_ old…how is he a threat to Konoha? Sandaime-sama could destroy him with his _little_ finger.”

“He’s controlling Hokage-sama with powerful genjutsu and basically already running Konoha from the shadows. And he steals children.”

“…” Inoichi blinks fast a few times. Then blinks hard. There’s a twinge of something like a pained recollection. She’s glad there’s no water in sight in Inoichi’s liminal space. “Where are you getting this information from?”

“Sensei is one of his plants.”

“Orochimaru-sama—!” A bit of a panicked reaction there.

“Ah, but Sensei’s on our side. He’s been sealed though, so he can’t say much about Danzō.”

“Oh, okay…that’s good, I guess.” Inoichi frowns, still not totally convinced. “Wait, ‘our side’?”

She nods.

He suddenly feels uncomfortable—dread. “…what happens if I decide I don’t want to take part in this thing you’re planning?”

She frowns. “Nothing. But if you care about Konoha, you won’t rat us out to Danzō or the council or Hokage-sama or _anyone.”_

Inoichi swallows nearly imperceptibly, face blank. It’d be a good poker face if she couldn’t feel his silent freak out happening.

“Why me? Did Orochimaru-sama ask you to contact me this way? You’re really aiming to get Shikaku and his big brain in on this scam, aren’t you?”

She shakes her head. “I’m calling the shots on picking allies because I’m the only one who can tell if someone’s been sealed by Danzō, and I want Inoshikachō on my side. I contacted you first because I was told you were the one most likely to notice me poking around.”

His jaw slacks.

“You’re calling the shots? _You?”_

“That’s what I said.”

Inoichi paces. “…I need to talk to Shikaku.”

“Okay. Here, when you decide to come to our meeting, you need the password.”

He shoots a glare at her, right as she makes grabby paws at him, and he pales.

“Hand, please. Minato set up a privacy barrier on our tent.”

“I—we, might not come.”

She shrugs again and he slowly offers his hand out to her. She draws ‘tomo’, friend, on his palm.

“Bring Torifu-san with you.”

“Hey, I said we might not come—”

“…chan, don’t just jump into Inoichi’s mind! He’ll turn your brain into ramen noodles!”

Minato grabs her by the shoulders and shakes her.

“Honōka-chan!” He cries.

She raises an eyebrow at him.

“I’m back already. He said he needed to talk to the Catnap Ninja first.”

“Stop _doing_ that!” Minato scolds her, shaking her by the shoulders again. “Diving into other peoples' heads is dangerous!”

He didn’t even react to Shikaku’s nickname. Disappointing.

“Inoichi-san’s liminal space was very interesting!” She brags. “There were mirrors arranged like a maze—I totally could have gotten lost in there! But the core space was a garden with bush clovers and flowers everywhere. Very pretty!”

Minato presses the heels of his palms to his eyes and takes a deep breath. “More importantly—just how fast did you talk to them? You barely had time to say ‘hi’, right?”

“It’s liminal space,” she shrugs. “A higher plane of existence. Who knows how time functions there?” She doesn’t tell him she’s literally taken a nap of unknown duration on Sensei’s island and woken up maybe three seconds later mentally rested. It did nothing for her chakra levels or general fatigue, unfortunately. 

She said space and time though—that’s all that Minato cares about.

“That’s insane! I wonder how it works…”

Then Fugaku walks into the tent, dragging Gaku by the collar of his flak jacket and Chairo by the scruff. They both look like they just woke up.

“I am so confused, right now.” Gaku informs them with an enormous yawn. “And tired…!”

Minato opens and closes his mouth like a fish.

“Um, me too? How’d you guys even get in here? There’s supposed to be a barrier…”

“I gave Fugaku-oji-san the password.”

“You gave him the key, you mean?” Minato shoots her a betrayed look. The privacy barrier is his own creation. It has a long and frankly ridiculous name that she refuses to use. “Hey, I didn’t show you the key… Honōka-chan, I thought you didn’t like fūinjutsu?”

“I don’t.” Because half the time it doesn’t affect her and she can’t even see what it’s supposed to be doing.

Fugaku glowers at her and shows them his right palm, where the kanji for friend is glowing faintly. “This had better come off.”

She claps excitedly and points to it. “Sensei, look what I did!”

“I see it,” he responds, dryly. “Sealing is not my expertise of choice. Ask Minato about removing it, Fugaku.”

Fugaku shoots Minato a dubious look. “He’s past the stage where everything he touches blows up, right?”

“He’s good…ninety-nine percent of the time.” Kakashi pipe in, awkwardly. He meant it as a genuine vote of confidence, but that’s not how Fugaku takes it, clearly.

He slys his eyes at her, silently threatening (pleading?) her to figure out how to remove it.

“Don’t look at me—I didn’t even know I was doing anything.”

Fugaku makes a strangled noise and Gaku howls with laughter. He calms down after a moment (and a hard elbow to the ribs from Fugaku) and catches his breath.

“So, what’s going on? Fugaku-oji-san here wouldn’t tell me anything. Said we needed to talk about it ‘somewhere private’. This is about as private as it gets, period.”

Sensei nods. At least he's confident in Minato’s seal work.

“Honōka, are the others on the way?”

“They just grabbed Torifu-san from the mess hall.”

He nods again.

“I hate repeating myself, so you will understand if I would rather wait a moment before beginning?”

Gaku and Fugaku look surprised. They’re not used to Sensei asking for permission or patience, _politely,_ for anything.

“Sure, sure. You’re the boss.”

A couple minutes later, Inoichi stomps into the tent ahead of the others, who remain stuck outside.

He shows his palm to her and points at it rather dramatically.

“Tell me this thing comes off!”

“Minato’s in charge of figuring that out,” she chirps, cheerfully.

Inoichi is horrified. She has to try really hard not to laugh at his expression. What did Minato do to have everyone reacting like his sealing skills are questionable?

Minato returns from letting Torifu, Chōza, and Shikaku, into the tent, and scowls at Inoichi’s back. She thought Minato liked everybody. She must have been wrong.

Torifu immediately sits down across from her, looking stern. Chōza and Shikaku stand on either side of him. Unfortunately, she’s still firmly planted on her futon—Sensei’s orders—so she feels somewhat awkward.

“What’s this all about, Honōka-chan?”

She doesn’t miss the sharp look Torifu throws at Sensei. In fact, he and the Inoshikachō trio are patently projecting their suspicions at Sensei. Rude.

“To recap,” she says, pleasantly. “Shimura Danzō is a threat to Konoha and we’re planning on deposing him.”


	52. mini maniac.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Welcome to the mess!” She bows theatrically. “Oh, Shikaku-san…welcome.” She hadn’t planned on him hitching a ride into her liminal space with Inoichi.
> 
> They’ve both landed on floating debris and are looking rather…ill at ease?
> 
> “What…what is that?!”

There’s the expected yelling and finger pointing, and Honōka gives everyone a moment to get it out of their systems. Then she glances at Fugaku, who’s just standing in the corner watching it all happen with an exasperated glower on his face. He sighs when he catches her eye and whistles, loudly.

Everyone shuts up.

Chōza opens his mouth first.

“You told Inoichi Danzō-san is controlling the Hokage with genjutsu—among other things. All very serious allegations, Honōka. Do you have proof?”

“My kekkei genkai makes me immune to genjutsu and most yin-based jutsu. Danzō didn’t know that and blatantly manipulated Hokage-sama and Sensei in front of me."

“Can you prove that?” Shikaku asks. “Who else witnessed it?”

“Minato and Kakashi were present while the incident occurred—and Matsuya Jūn.”

Shikaku narrows his eyes at her.

“They didn’t see anything, did they?”

She shrugs.

“They thought the incident lasted three minutes or less. It was roughly seven and half minutes by my estimate.”

“Would you be willing to let Inoichi verify your memories?” Chōza asks.

Minato and Kakashi tense up and are unhappy with that option. Sensei is more ambivalent. He doesn’t like it either, but it’s the fastest way to get them on their side. Fugaku outwardly hides his concern—because he knows her secret.

“Will the mind transmission technique work on her?” Shikaku inquires to Sensei. “If she really is immune to ‘most’ yin-based jutsu?”

Sensei considers. He’s uncertain, so there must be something different about Inoichi’s Saiko Denshin jutsu.

“It would most likely fail.” He decides.

“I’m pretty sure I could drag him into my liminal space if it fails.” She remarks. Sensei suppresses a smirk, and the Inoshikachō trio tenses. She could have phrased that better.

“Liminal space?” Inoichi asks, uncertain.

“You know, like your garden? Your subconscious space.”

Torifu clears his throat.

“Your kekkei genkai—Shinryūgan—you’ve explained before that it makes you immune to genjutsu and builds on your innate sensor abilities. Does it also allow you to mind walk as the Yamanaka do?”

“Mind walk?” Sounds interesting. “I’m not sure. Shinryūgan lets me see the nexus point between the body and the liminal space. Liminal spaces definitely have some kind of connection to the subconscious mind, but they’re also stable planes of existence separate from the mind and body.”

“The soul.” Inoichi replies. “It’s the shape of the soul.”

She snaps her fingers and points at Inoichi, who flinches. That’s the piece she’s been missing! “Exactly that!”

Shikaku sits down next to Torifu and hunches his shoulders. He’s giving her a sharp and very prodding look.

“You want our help to get rid of Danzō, and if he’s controlling Sandaime-sama as you say he is, that’s going to require starting a civil war in Konoha.”

“I’d rather avoid a civil war, but there’s definitely a possibility that still happening.” She glances at Sensei. “The moment Sensei walks through the village’s front gate, Danzō is going to pull the rug out from under him. Then there’s nothing between Danzō getting what he wants—mine and Shinku’s new dōjutsu.”

Torifu’s chest rumbles and he crosses his arms. He’s apprehensive about the situation, and she thinks he wants to believe it’s all an exaggerated ploy against Danzō for reasons other than the one she presents.

Shikaku also crosses his arms.

“I’d rather not have Inoichi mind walk in your head. You’ve got an unusual and undocumented kekkei genkai that’s more than a little sketchy—and I’m seriously questioning your sanity, kid.”

Minato and Kakashi immediately protest. Sensei feels like he would happily show Shikaku his own brand of ‘sanity’.

“Do you have any other evidence to present?” Shikaku asks, pointedly ignoring the hostility being directed at him.

She gestures to Sensei.

“He has a seal that prevents him from speaking about anything related to Danzō.”

A touch of revulsion from the trio. They don’t like the sound of being sealed anymore than she does.

Torifu sighs.

“Anbu has a similar seal, Honōka-chan. It’s not a big deal. You do what you gotta do to prevent secrets from falling into the wrong hands.”

She glares at Torifu.

“Does Anbu’s seal paralyze respiratory responses or cause intense pain to accomplish that?”

Disgust from the trio. Sensei shifts uncomfortably. He probably didn’t realize she could tell just how painful the seal’s responses could be.

Torifu frowns.

“No.”

Shikaku rubs his chin. “Anbu’s seal only prevents the involuntary sharing of information. If an Anbu agent _wanted_ to tell an outsider intel, they could. What you’re describing sounds like…”

“Punishment? Torture for the sake of torture?” She snaps.

“Honōka,” Sensei chastises. “Do not bring your personal feelings into this discussion.”

“How else do you expect me to make them understand the severity of the situation, Sensei? It’s one thing to accept a crime is being committed and another to realize that just because it hasn’t happened to anybody they care about, yet, doesn’t mean it won’t.”

“Honōka’s right, boss man. Nobody cares about shit like this until it happens to them.” Gaku growls. “No one wants to talk about what happened to my clan or Kakashi’s clan in the last war, do they? Because it _didn’t_ happen to them.”

Chōza strongly sympathizes with him, because he’s experienced similar censures; Inoichi bites his lip, recalling that painful memory again.

“It’s not reason enough to go to war.” Shikaku insists. “What if she’s wrong and Danzō _isn’t_ controlling Sandaime-sama? He’s _supposed_ to be Sandaime-sama’s closest adviser. And maybe they are doing some shady stuff in the background, but what Hidden Village isn’t?”

“Can you justify being a cog in a system that preys on vulnerable children? That oppresses and ostracizes undesirable individuals until they roll over and let themselves be trampled to death for the ‘sake’ of their village?”

Shikaku scowls at her.

“Kid, you gotta _think_ about what you’re trying to start here.”

“I have.”

“No, you haven’t—you’re being unreasonable.”

 _“Unreasonable?”_ She laughs. It's this entire world that's 'unreasonable'.

Kakashi and Minato hold their breath, and Sensei re-crosses his arms and waits for her to blow up.

“Nara Shikaku! Where is your Will of Fire?!”

Silence and stinging pride. She can practically taste the mental recoil.

Fugaku feels inappropriately amused—vindicated, maybe—and whistles, softly, mockingly. Sensei smirks and Shikaku looks _pissed._

“Alright, let’s hear it from you, Mister Uchiha Clan Heir and future Captain of the KKB. Are you willing to risk your clan in a civil war against Sarutobi Hiruzen and everyone that sides with him?”

“We never recovered Uchiha Kagami’s body.”

Confusion all around from the non sequitur. Torifu is the only other person who understands what Fugaku is insinuating. He suddenly deflates and looks ten years older. Dread creeps up his throat like a case of bad heartburn.

“What the hell does that matter?” Shikaku grumbles. “Everyone loses track of a body or two.”

“Uchiha Kagami was a teammate of Shimura Danzō.”

“Yeah, so?”

Fugaku snorts.

“You’re awfully slow for a Nara.”

Shikaku jumps to his feet. “Say what you really mean, _Oji-san…!”_

Fugaku activates his Sharingan—his Mangekyō Sharingan. The aura is stifling and everyone freezes, even if they don’t know what it really means. Torifu pinches his eyes shut and fear rolls off him in waves. Despite that, he does not get to his feet, resigned to whatever may come.

“Uchiha Kagami had the ultimate genjutsu eye, Kotoamatsukami. With it, he could permanently alter memories and turn personal realities inside out."

“And Shimura Danzō told us his body was incinerated down to ash and bone on the battlefield. We were never able to confirm what became of Kagami's eyes.”

Shikaku grimaces, scars pulling taunt on his face as he parses out the implications of that bit of information.

“You’re certain Danzō has that ultimate-whatever-you-call-it eye?”

Fugaku nods. He doesn’t mention she’s the one who pointed it out to him, which she’s grateful for. Shikaku takes the words of the adults in the room more seriously than he does hers.

“What a fucking drag!” He suddenly plops down cross-legged and rests his elbow on one knee, and his forehead on his fisted hand. “Inoichi, do the mind walk. We need to know if the mini maniac is right about Danzō.”

“Eh, but—”

“If you get lost in her mind, I’ll pull you out.”

“Don’t worry, Inoichi-san, there are no mazes in my liminal space, unlike yours.”

He awkwardly kneels next to Shikaku and makes eye contact with her. He focuses his chakra and concentrates. His brow crinkles.

“Um, it’s not working…”

She shrugs. “Thought so.”

Honōka crawls out of her futon and kneels across from him. Kakashi immediately trots over to her side, warily eying Inoichi. 

“I’ve never tried pulling someone into my liminal space before. Apologies for the mess in advance!”

“What?!” Inoichi squeaks. Shikaku latches onto her forearm as she grabs Inoichi’s hand.

“Welcome to the mess!” She bows theatrically. “Oh, Shikaku-san… Welcome.” She hadn’t planned on him hitching a ride into her liminal space with Inoichi.

They’ve both landed on floating debris and are looking rather…ill at ease?

“What… What is that?!”

She looks to where Inoichi is pointing.

“Oh, that?” It’s an infinitely large galaxy being consumed by a mutually undying black hole. “That’s my lower dantian. Minato calls it the seventh gate, Sensei thinks it's a chakra coil, and I’ve been calling it the nexus recently.”

“My clan calls it the Doorway… But I don’t think it’s supposed to look like that…”

Shikaku cautiously glances around. The background is eigengrau but everything else is brightly lit by the galaxy bending around the pitch black void of her nexus, a perfect circle of nothingness in a debris field of city rubble.

Shikaku and Inoichi are already gravitating towards the exit, so they hurriedly jump from one building piece to another, eventually joining her on the clump of soccer field she claimed.

“Is this how ‘inner worlds’ are supposed to look?” Shikaku asks Inoichi. He scuffs his foot on the grass turf, observing the broken off stems of grass as they float away. 

Inoichi watches the little pieces for a moment before shaking his head. “No… They’re usually better put together than this. Is this… Is this the resting phase of your inner sanctum?”

Shikaku mouths the correct term to himself, likely committing it to memory.

Honōka hums.

“I only figured out how to get here in late August.”

“And it’s always like this?”

She nods, batting away a disembodied headlight from a bus. She hopes no cars show up today. That’d be hard to explain.

“Mentally unstable?” Shikaku asks Inoichi. She scowls at him. She’s right here, standing right next to them?

“Um…it’s definitely messy, and more than a little puzzling, but surprisingly stable? I mean, nothing is abruptly warping or breaking down. And I’ve never seen a doorway that’s so perfectly shaped before—not even Kushina’s, and the Uzumaki are known for their ridiculously stable chakra ratios.”

She points to herself. “Mine is one to one on the dot.”

“That makes sense.” Inoichi admits.

“So,” she says, “you want to see my memory of Danzō being creepy? I’d help you find it, but I have no idea how? Every time I’ve accidentally, or intentionally, triggered a memory it’s been random or related to recent traumas.”

Shikaku glances at her, warily. A broken window frame and a cluster of glass shards float between them. “You’re a strange kid, you know that, right?”

“Sensei tells me I’m odd.” And he means it in the best way possible.

“If Orochimaru says it, you must be seriously _weird.”_ Shikaku mutters, blowing the stray broken glass away.

She ignores him.

“Water always seems to trigger memories for me. Is it the same for you, Inoichi-san?”

“It depends, I guess. If water works for you, that’s what we should look for.”

She nods. “Come on, then. We have to go down.”

“Down where?” Inoichi asks, glancing over the edge of the soccer field. “It’s just…empty…down there.”

“There’s a bottom,” she grabs their hands and jumps. “It’s a long ways down though.” 

Shikaku and Inoichi scream as she pulls them into freefall, and she cackles at them both as they plummet through space.

They eventually land on a dark pool of water with a stream of water pouring straight down into the pool from her nexus point, which appears to be only a couple meters above them. It’s actually much farther away, but liminal spaces are weird like that. Or maybe hers sense of distance is screwy inside her head too.

She gives Shikaku and Inoichi a moment to catch their breath.

Shikaku gathers himself enough to point at the yellow carp swimming up the stream of water. Of everything he's seen so far, this is the one detail that _really_ bothers him.

“Why the hell is there a fish swimming up a waterfall?”

She walks across the pool and dips her fingers into the streaming water, stroking the carp’s golden yellow scales.

“He’s trying to become a dragon, can’t you tell?”

Shikaku rolls his eyes at her. “Right. _Crazy._ I forgot.”

She pouts at him. What is with boys and calling her crazy?

Inoichi kneels on the surface of the pond and begins focusing his chakra.

The pool glows and images suddenly span across the dark surface. She feels an uneasy lump forming in her throat but does nothing to fight the intrusion.

Inoichi locks onto the image of the day they left for border patrol.

“Got it,” he says, panting. “This is it, Shikaku.”

Shikaku turns his attention to the memory and watches it play out. He frowns.

“Rewind?” He asks.

Inoichi sighs but does it.

“Again.” Shikaku says.

“…” Inoichi rewinds the scene again.

“…”

Shikaku points to her grabbing Sensei’s hand, and the barely there jerk he gave.

“What did you do to Orochimaru here?”

She continues petting the struggling carp.

“Went inside his liminal space and ripped Danzō out by the roots.”

Inoichi looks sick.

“Forcefully?”

She nods.

“And Orochimaru-sama was okay?”

“He seemed tired after.” Slightly frayed. “I pulled the edges together when I finished.”

Inoichi feels a flash of abject not-quite-terror, not-quite-horror.

“You are banned from my inner sanctum, okay? You _are_ crazy.”

She bites her cheek.

“I didn’t know what else to do… He was destroying Sensei’s love for his teacher. It wasn’t fair.”

Shikaku lets out a weak breath. It’s the first time he lets himself feel a grudging respect for her.

“Alright. That settles it. Nara Clan is in. Inoichi?”

Inoichi nods. “Yamanaka Clan is in, too.”

Shikaku snorts. “That means we’re all in, mini maniac. The Akimichi Clan never abandons us, their friends, family, or allies.”

She offers them a little smile, relieved. In her mind, everything hinges on having the support of the Inoshikachō triad.

“Now get us the hell out of here. This place is fucking insane!”


	53. no more tears.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Damn. I’ll bet that’s the weirdest thing I see in my lifetime.” Shikaku mutters. “Orochimaru, voluntarily coddling a brat?”
> 
> Fugaku shoves the mouthy teenager by the side of the head. “Don’t be such a sourpuss, Nara.”

Kakashi punches Shikaku in the face and the surly teenager does not retaliate, despite the rather forceful stimulus. Chōza catches him before he can fall over backwards and Minato rushes forward to grab Kakashi, tucking him under his arm as one does for a small animal. A trickle of blood runs down Shikaku’s nose, and Orochimaru tries not to look _too_ happy about that.

A few seconds pass and Shikaku still does not react—and neither does his student nor Inoichi stir. Torifu looks concerned, and waves a hand between Inoichi’s blank face and Honōka’s unfocused eyes. Kakashi rumbles at him, and Chōza lightly slaps Shikaku on the cheek.

“What happened to Shikaku?” Chōza asks. He gestures at Inoichi. “That’s normal for Inoichi, but not for Shikaku.”

Fugaku steps around them and Orochimaru watches his strange new Sharingan languidly spin.

“Looks like Shikaku went along for the ride.”

“Is he okay?”

Fugaku tilts his head. “Don’t know. They went too deep for me to see, and I’m not poking around when it’s already crowded in there.”

A few more moments pass in silence and Inoichi suddenly stiffens, blinking his eyes rapidly. Honōka lets go of his hand and Shikaku groans.

“That felt like a punch in the face…” He touches his nose and winces when his fingers slide through blood. “Who the fuck punched me?!”

Kakashi growls. “Don’t touch Honōka without her permission, dickhead.”

“Kakashi!” Minato scolds, dropping him back on his feet. “That was rude!”

“Him grabbing Honōka’s arm was rude.”

Inuzuka Gaku bursts out laughing. “Pup, I gotta introduce you to Tsume!”

Orochimaru rolls his eyes. “Please, the boy is feral enough.” And they don’t need him back sliding any further than he already has.

Inoichi blinks a few more times, clenching his jaw.

“Why didn’t you lead with you being literally kidnapped by one of Danzō’s men?”

Honōka frowns. “You saw that too?”

“Er, yeah?”

“You were kidnapped?!” Fugaku exclaims, then glares at Torifu. “You told me Honōka was down from chakra exhaustion.”

Torifu narrows his eyes and jabs his thumb at Minato. “That one told me it was chakra exhaustion.”

“What was I supposed to say? Kōmori kidnapped Honōka-chan? That would have gone over well with the Intelligence Division!”

As is, they’re still searching for him.

“Kōmori?!” Fugaku spits. “Where’s the bastard now?”

“He’s dead.” Honōka says.

“I killed him.”

“Shit.” Shikaku groans. “Didn’t you think _maybe_ you should keep him around for interrogation? As a witness, maybe?”

“There would be no point, as he could not serve either of those purposes."

“I know you said you couldn’t reveal anything about Danzō, thanks to a seal, but Inoichi, or even your brat, could get information by mind walking.”

He opens his mouth and no sound comes out. He clicks his jaw shut and grimaces. Even the information they gathered themselves on the Root Seal is unspeakable.

“The seal is a very thorough and complicated construct; it’s near the back of the tongue, making it difficult to access.” Minato explains for him. “Honōka-chan can’t see past it even while using her dōjutsu, so I would assume Inoichi’s Saiko Denshin would fail, too.”

Inoichi crosses his arms and blows his hair out of his face.

“There are cracks and faults in every seal, if you know where to look.”

“Not this one,” Honōka asserts. “I’ve looked and looked and all I can tell is that breaking it would be like shattering glass. Does that sound like a good idea to you, Inoichi-san?”

Inoichi bites his lip. “No. It doesn’t. Are you sure you haven’t overlooked anything?”

She shakes her head, firmly.

Shikaku sighs. “What about removing it? Minato's a genius fūinjutsu-shi, and you’re no slouch yourself, Orochimaru.”

Even if he wanted to, the seal itself would reject his efforts.

“Ah, as embarrassing as it sounds…” Minato begins, awkwardly. “Honōka-chan knows more about the seal than either of us. It’s something called a Chūgoku hexagram, and a bit of a puzzle to boot.”

Shikaku snorts. He glances at Honōka, suspiciously.

“Shikaku’s good at puzzles,” Chōza points out. “Maybe you just need a new perspective?”

He feels doubtful, but his student pats the ground next to her.

“Minato, Minato! Get our notes!”

Minato glances at him first, asking permission, and he gives a small nod. There’s no harm in trying, given how little they have figured out themselves.

Minato unseals the notes from another scroll and rolls out the diagram he’s been creating.

Shikaku rubs his bloody nose on his sleeve and crawls over for a better look.

“Ugh, what a pain. Looks like the Hyūga Clan’s handiwork. Please tell me they aren’t involved in this damn conspiracy too?”

His precious little student shrugs.

“No idea. I’ve never met a Hyūga before.”

“Lucky you.” Shikaku drawls, then frowns. “How do you know their code then?”

She hesitates, and Orochimaru senses Shikaku’s interest piquing in much the same way his does when his student does or says something unusual.

“I read it in a book a long time ago.”

It’s not a lie. Honōka knows better than to try lying to a tent full of shinobi—and yet it feels like it's only have the truth.

“A long time ago, huh?” Shikaku muses.

“So,” Minato butts in. “What we’ve figured out so far are these characters: ‘bound’, ‘mountain’, ‘open’, and ‘swamp’. The first two trigger paralyzing force when the target tries to reveal secrets. ‘Open’ and ‘swamp’ are still giving us trouble.”

“Then you’re both idiots.”

Minato gapes at him and Honōka puffs up her cheeks. She does not spit bubbles or make that obnoxiously immature sound at him, thankfully.

“The Gate of Opening is in the brain’s left lobe and removes mental inhibitions when released. Clearly, the seal is doing the opposite, putting some kind of pressure on the gate in response to any attempts to spill secrets. The Gate of Opening is also linked with fight-or-flight instincts from the adrenal glands. And, do you know what happens when the fight-or-flight response is overstimulated? You freeze. Sound familiar?”

‘Oh,’ Minato mouths. Honōka slouches next to him.

“It’s in Sensei’s brain then, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know much about sealing, but it’s probably one of those what’s-its. Minato?”

Minato shakily nods. “A three-dimensional seal.”

“Yeah, that. Removing this thing’s a bust. We need someone with serious expertise to even consider touching it.”

“How long have you had this seal, Orochimaru?” Torifu asks. “Surly not long?”

He grunts and draws a shaky ‘x’. The bloody seal seems to be learning his treacherous codes.

Minato considers. “Since you were twelve, right? Jiraiya-sensei said you stayed with the snakes, and that when you came back, you were different.”

He draws the ‘x’ again, sweat running down his temple.

Honōka slowly stands up and teeters over to him. Her eyes are watering as she hugs him around the legs. He sighs and pets her hair, gently combing his fingers through the tangles.

“Come now, Honōka, no more tears.” 

His words only make the tears fall faster. He sighs again and picks her up, letting her hide her face against his flak jacket.

“Damn. I’ll bet that’s the weirdest thing I see in my lifetime.” Shikaku mutters. “Orochimaru, voluntarily coddling a brat?”

Fugaku shoves the mouthy teenager by the side of the head. “Don’t be such a sourpuss, Nara.”

“Don’t be such an old man, Uchiha!”

They tussle, but it’s mostly harmless. Inoichi sighs.

“Hey, Fugaku, I don’t mean to interrupt your uncle-ing, but we got border patrol in like, ten minutes. We good to go, for now, boss man?”

“There is little we can do until this border conflict either resolves, or I am recalled back to Konoha. There will be ample time to speak, later.”

Gaku nods. “Come on then, Fugaku. Border patrol waits for no one."

“…” Kakashi glances at Honōka, still crying in his arms, and then at Gaku. He’s technically part of Gaku’s team. 

Gaku grins at him.

“Don’t worry, Kakashi. You’re still on R&R as far as my team is concerned. You busted your eardrums yesterday and all that.”

“And some of us have been up all night,” Inoichi yawns, twirling a strand of his hair absently. “We would also like to reconvene at another time.”

He nods. “Very well, then. This meeting is dismissed.”


	54. our dear 'Hokage'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She hits the beach running. Sensei’s already up to his shoulders in the water, and steadily sinking deeper. She slides across the glassy surface and drops to her knees, grabbing Sensei’s collar.

The worst news yet comes three weeks later: the Third Tsuchikage is in Kusa.

Minato is once again setting up the privacy barrier at their tent. Honōka sits at the table, drinking tea with Sensei while they wait for everyone to arrive.

She still occasionally gets a strange craving for Kōmori’s coffee, which probably has more to do with the amount of opium he had gradually dosed her with for a week straight than the caffeine content. Regular coffee just doesn’t cut it—and the smell is enough to make her sick.

Not that she needs coffee to stay productive when she’s barely done anything since the incident. Kakashi has been glued to her side the entire time and Torifu has been supervising them while they complete menial tasks, like digging latrines or peeling buckets and buckets of potatoes.

Kakashi hasn’t complained once, and Honōka feels cheated. She wishes he would get impatient and demand something more exciting than vegetable peeling. They won’t listen to her when she says she’s bored.

Inoichi, Chōza, and Shikaku arrive first, Inoichi dragging his teammates through the barrier by either hand.

Minato has _not_ figured out the seal she put on Inoichi’s and Fugaku’s hands. Luckily, it fades to nothing the moment Minato removes the privacy barrier. It also reappears the moment he sets it up anew, which has the bonus of notifying Inoichi and Fugaku of meetings without having to say anything to them in advance. She wanted to put one on everyone's hand, but Minato went and said there was an uncertain connection between the ‘key’ seal she made and the barrier seal he made. And then he talked about negative and positive interactions between common seals, and no one wanted to let her try anymore. Boo.

Honōka freezes. The arrival of the Inoshikachō trio heralds a massive mood change, rapidly spreading through the border camp. Fear, thick and oily, and a terror so pitched she can _taste_ it.

“What happened?” She asks.

Shikaku clears his throat to speak, but it’s Fugaku, bursting in at that moment, who answers her.

“The Third Tsuchikage is in Kusa. He’s wiped out over half of Kusa’s shinobi in one battle.” He takes a deep breath. “We lost one hundred and forty-nine shinobi ourselves. Three entire squadrons and there’s only one survivor.”

Sensei puts his cup of tea down and goes absolutely silent, emotions and all. Minato combs back his hair, feeling what Sensei won’t allow himself to feel: guilt.

“I suppose this is retaliation for mine and Minato’s actions earlier this month.”

He’s blaming himself. Honōka nudges his knee with her foot under the table. She has to dig her toe into the back of his calf muscle to get his attention. He finally looks her way, and she shakes her head at him. It’s not his fault. She makes eye contact with Minato, who gives an awkward half-nod-half-shake.

“It’s more likely that they’re having supplies issues.” Shikaku grunts. “Kusa’s been cutthroat with them ever since Fujimasa Naotaki took over as daimyō, and apparently there’s been a blight in the northwest this season. They’ve got nothing left to fall back on—it’s forward or nowhere.”

Famine. This war is being driven by food shortages. Isn’t it odd that she didn’t know that before? Honōka clears the lump in her throat.

Kakashi rips into the tent with Gaku and Chairo, having been bullied into going to the bathing tents with the Inuzuka duo earlier. He has the actual key for the barrier with him—a slip of paper with a complicated script on it.

His hair is still sopping wet, falling in his face and eyes—except for a rooster tail in the back that somehow stands straight up despite being equally wet. He’s fully dressed (thank the gods) despite his rush to get back to the tent amidst the chaos outside.

“Man, it’s crazy out there!” Gaku barks, then drops a towel over Kakashi’s head. “Dry your hair, pup. There’s a chill in the air.”

Kakashi impatiently towel dries his hair, gives it an extra shake for good measure, and ties on his hitai-ate. His hair poofs up and she nearly laughs.

“They’re saying Iwa advanced eight kilometers.” Kakashi reports. “And that they’ll advance another eight within the week. Everyone’s panicking.”

Inoichi nods—cheeks near hollowed from his nervous energy.

“The Intelligence Division wants me to use the mind transfer technique to monitor the situation.”

“Not that it’ll do us any bloody good.” Shikaku snorts. “It’s Ōnoki of the Dust Release. Unless we do something to make him retreat, we’re all screwed.”

She wants to say that he’s being pessimistic—but Shikaku has a sense for risk versus reward, and the Third Tsuchikage is a risk with no reward…no matter how one cuts it.

“Torifu is heading this way.” She says, numbly.

Minato waits at the tent flap to let him in, biting his thumbnail.

No one speaks another word. Fugaku heads straight for the teapot and pours himself a cup of stale tea, blowing on it until it steams again. Kakashi sits on the edge of her chair, knocking shoulders with her comfortingly. Honōka swallows.

Ōnoki is fifty-five years old—a senior shinobi with more battle experience than nearly anyone living today. The only shinobi in the world that could fight him and hope to survive is their Third Hokage—and even that’s not a certain thing.

“How would we make Ōnoki retreat?” She asks Shikaku.

“Fighting him directly isn’t an option.”

“Yeah, I got that,” she replies. “But what would he retreat for?”

Shikaku considers. “He’s ruthless, but he cares about his village more than most shinobi—more than _most_ Kage—do. If he couldn’t make this assault worth the loss of his men he would probably turn back around.”

“Give him such staggering losses that he gives up?” Fugaku scowls. “That never works. Not for long, at least.”

“What if we made his campaign goal moot?” She asks. “He’s after resources and the land that produces them.”

Fugaku turns a stern and disappointed look on her.

“Are you suggesting we scorch the soil? Did you miss the fields and fields of root crops growing barely twenty kilometers from here? The villages responsible for growing them?—”

She glowers at Fugaku for assuming the worst.

“That’s not what I meant. Nagakuri Pass is currently uninhabited. Why not offer it to Iwa in exchange for a ceasefire agreement?”

Shikaku scoffs at her.

“And what, have the other nations sniffing at our borders for more freebies?”

“Other nations don’t have Ōnoki of the Dust Release to worry about."

“Our dear 'Hokage' could never be convinced to make such an offer.” Sensei chuckles, mirthlessly. He never calls Sarutobi Hiruzen by his title—it’s always Sarutobi-sensei, so she figures he means Danzō.

“Then don’t ask the Hokage—bring it straight to the daimyō.”

Shikaku shake his head. “It won’t work. The daimyō doesn’t want to lose land any less than Danzō does.”

She frowns. Greedy old men in every walk of life, it seems.

“Trade agreement? The economy sucks, but we don’t have a food shortage—offer bulk foods for unrefined ore?”

“Again,” Shikaku says. “Other countries would come looking for handouts.”

“Then let them? Kiri needs timber and we like fish. I’m sure there’s something that Kumo or Suna would trade for.”

“It’s not as simple as that, Honōka-chan.” Torifu says as Minato lets him into the tent.

“Why not?”

“Yeah,” Kakashi huffs. “Why can’t it be that simple?”

“Because shinobi hate sharing anything, kids.” Fugaku snorts.

“Yup, us shinobi got a real hoarding problem.” Gaku tacks on.

Honōka scowls around the tent.

“Well, that’s just stupid. Is anyone even trying to achieve ‘peace of the nations’ anymore?”

Minato groans. “Please don’t quote Madara. It’s bad luck—no offense, Fugaku-san.”

“None taken.” But one of Fugaku’s eyebrows slowly creeps up. “Where did you even hear that from? I thought the Academy stopped teaching Madara’s essays?”

She shrugs. “Fūbuki-obā-san let me read them.”

“Right.” A small smile forms on Fugaku’s usually down turned lips. “I forgot you’re actually friends with Obito when you’re not trying to tear his arms off.”

Torifu clears his throat. She notices he’s holding a scroll in his hand, nearly hidden by his large fingers.

“Message from the ‘Hokage’, Orochimaru.”

Torifu passes the scroll to Sensei and Kakashi flips his mask down over his nose, sniffing it. He gets a stern look from Torifu and an amused one from Sensei.

“It doesn’t smell like Sandaime-sama.”

Sensei takes one look at the scroll and glares. 

“Oh, it’s from our dear 'Hokage', no doubt about it.”

Gaku strolls over to Sensei, hands in his pocket and his own nose scrunching up.

“You sure we should open that here? Could be a trap.” He inserts himself between Sensei’s chair and hers, blocking her and Kakashi.

Fugaku is right behind him and pulls the chair she and Kakashi are sitting on out into the middle of the tent. She protests.

“Back up, Honōka, Kakashi.” Fugaku’s regular Sharingan activates. “There’s something fishy about that scroll.”

She gets up and Fugaku pushes her back down with one finger pressed firmly to her forehead protector.

“Fugaku-oji- _chan_ -n,” she whines. “I want to see it too!”

“Your eyes aren’t for seeing what mine do, kid. Sit down.”

She pouts and crosses her arms, elbowing Kakashi in the side (accidentally!) as she does. He doesn’t even complain. She’s getting tired of the adults in her life picking when she and Kakashi get to be treated like adults. Which isn’t often, recently.

“Is it dangerous?” Minato asks? “I could make a barrier for it?”

Sensei taps the scroll on the tabletop, listening to the sound it makes. She’s not sure what he’s listening for, but he’s satisfied by what he hears.

“It is harmless enough—though I expect its message is not.”

Sensei opens the scroll and reads silently. Honōka waits. Nothing happens for a long moment. 

And then Sensei’s nose bleeds.

“Sensei?!”

No response. He pitches forward and Minato catches him.

She dives.

She hits the beach running. Sensei’s already up to his shoulders in the water and is steadily sinking deeper. She slides across the glassy surface and drops to her knees, grabbing Sensei’s collar.

He stops sinking, but she can’t pull him out at all.

“Sensei…!” She shouts, but his eyes are blank—completely blank—just the whites of his eyes are showing. She whimpers. “Come on, Sensei, wake up!”

Inoichi suddenly appears.

“Honōka-kun! What’s going on?”

She’s still clutching onto Sensei’s flak jacket collar, and he hasn’t sunk any deeper, but he’s getting heavier.

“The seal is down there somewhere…! And it’s trying to drag Sensei under…help me pull him out!”

Inoichi drops to his knees on the other side of Sensei, grabbing a fistful of Sensei’s collar, and pulls. Nothing happens.

“We need to wake him up somehow…!” Inoichi pants. “This would be a lot easier if he were consciously fighting it as well…!”

“Sensei, WAKE UP!” She screams. Inoichi winces. Sensei doesn’t stir.

Sensei slips deeper, and she chokes back her terrified cry.

“Inoichi-san, do something! He’s slipping!”

“I’m trying, but this seal is smooth as glass and slippery as ice! I can’t get a proper hold on it!”

Sensei begins rapidly sinking. and their grips slip off his collar. She grabs onto both sides of his face and sobs.

“Sensei! Wake up, please…!”

Her fingers slip, and Sensei disappears beneath the dark surface.

The daytime sky turns to night without the comfort of the moon or the stars, and the twisting lavender smoke from Sensei’s nexus slows down. Inoichi feels a bone deep sorrow—for her.

“Honōka-kun…we need to leave.”

She stares at her reflection, a shadowy silhouette in the dark; static eigengrau on shiny black. Glowing blue and glaring red eyes stare back at her; waiting, watching—willing herself to move before it’s too late.

She punches her hand through the surface—ignoring the way her arm feels like it's being shredded—and pushes through the syrupy resistance. Then she _pulls._

The light is blinding when he returns.


	55. “We don’t got a week, woman!”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She has no face—it’s just a blank spot. Empty. It looks _wrong,_ and his Sharingan tries to make sense of it a hundred different ways with a hundred different faces. Each face somehow looks even more _wrong_ than the last.

Shinobi are creatures that don’t just survive in times of crisis—they _thrive_ in it.

Orochimaru pitches forward and Minato catches him before he can brain himself on the tabletop; Gaku is suddenly using the Mystical Palm Technique to assess whatever damage is causing the spontaneous nosebleed. Fugaku wasn’t even aware that his friend knew medical ninjutsu—but it makes sense. He and Chairo are right as rain the day after receiving most wounds.

Kakashi shoulders his way into the mess, holding a finger up to block himself from seeing the entire scroll all at once, in case it’s some kind of genjutsu trap. 

Smart kid, Fugaku thinks.

He determines it is not a genjutsu trap and immediately tries to make sense of the character that Fugaku’s Sharingan has already recognized as the inverted version of the seal on Orochimaru’s tongue.

“Minato! It’s another one of those Chainīzu hexagrams!”

Minato glances at it and nods.

“Honōka-chan? Any chance you know what that one means too?”

“…”

“Honōka-chan?”

They both look back at Honōka. She’s standing frozen, eyes unblinking. They faintly glow, which he’s never noticed before, but he’s not surprised either. _Dōjutsu._

“She’s already checking the situation from the other angle.”

“Shit,” Shikaku swears. “Inoichi, check on them. I’ll figure out the goddamn seal.”

Inoichi nods and stands next to Gaku.

“Can I touch his head or…?”

Gaku grits his pointy canines together. “There’s nothing else I can do here. A couple blood vessels popped—nothing in the brain, yet—but the proximity to the seal makes me worry.”

Inoichi nods and carefully lays his hand on Orochimaru’s head. He takes a deep breath and goes still.

“Any chance of us tracking down the person who gave you that message, Torifu-san?”

“They were dressed as Anbu, but had a broadsword instead of a tantō. Their mask had circular green markings around the eyes and purple lips.” Torifu’s shoulders are tense. “I knew I should have just burned the damn thing.”

“What’s done is done.” Shikaku bites out. He’s more preoccupied with wracking his brain on the symbol.

“It’s the opposite of the seal Orochimaru-sensei has,” Kakashi points out. “Does that mean it has a reverse meaning?”

“No, that’s not how the Hyūga code works.” Shikaku says. “This is the character after the one Orochimaru has. This one means ‘persevering’. The characters are ‘ground’, ‘wind’, ‘shake’, and ‘thunder’.”

It’s not obvious to any of them what those characters mean in this context.

“Chōza. Go get my cousin, Yoshino. She’s a skilled healer. Take Kakashi’s key.”

“Hey,” Gaku protests. “I’m doing alright here.”

He's stemmed the blood flow, but that might not be all they have to worry about.

“Would you be able to treat brain hemorrhaging?”

“Uh, no.”

“Chōza, _go.”_

Chōza grabs the barrier key from Kakashi and disappears in a shunshin.

“Shouldn’t they be back by now? Honōka and Inoichi, I mean?” Minato asks.

“I wouldn’t be able to tell you, Minato.” He grunts. “Time flows differently within subconscious spaces _before_ you throw Honōka into the mix.”

Minato nods. Fugaku’s heard a little about her rule breaking and jutsu crushing ways. He wouldn’t mind some of that right now.

“Fuck!” Gaku growls “He’s crashing man, and I have no idea why!”

Minato’s grip around Orochimaru’s shoulders tightens and his panicked expression makes him look younger, more vulnerable. Kakashi’s wide eyes dart between Honōka and his other sensei half a dozen times.

Then Inoichi gasps and recoils, hands flying to his temples as he squeezes his eyes shut in pain.

Honōka—except she’s not Honōka, but a teenager wearing a blue dress. Her long black hair shifts around her delicate shoulders and thin arms—and then she speaks.

**_“Move.”_ **

She has no face—it’s just a blank spot. Empty. It looks _wrong,_ and his Sharingan tries to make sense of it a hundred different ways with a hundred different faces. Each face somehow looks more _wrong_ than the last.

He moves.

She picks up the scroll and Minato panics.

“Honōka-chan—we need that!”

Not-Honōka jams the whole thing into the space where her face should be. The scroll burns—no, it _disintegrates_ —breaking down into its smallest parts until it just…disappears. His Sharingan wheels in confusion.

Orochimaru’s hand twitches and his eyes roll back down, slit pupils reduced to the thinnest openings, yellow irises bright and feverish. He squints at the teenage girl standing next to him and inclines his chin to her before passing out.

In an indescribable movement, Honōka pulls herself back together. His Sharingan strains from the effort of keeping up with the density of the shifting transformation, and fails. His eyes sting and he feels a headache coming on. He wonders what Inoichi saw to have him _still_ clutching his head.

“Sensei?” She takes one of his hands, pressing it to her cheek. “Gaku-nī! Is Sensei okay now?”

Gaku snaps his jaw shut and runs the Mystical Palm Technique over Orochimaru’s head again.

“I ain’t great at brain related stuff, but nothing’s bleeding, at least. His chakra’s real low, but Fugaku’s cousin is coming over to have a proper look at him.”

Her lip wobbles and she sniffs.

“Kakashi, set up the futon.” Minato instructs. “We should lay Orochimaru-sensei down now.”

Kakashi nods and pats Honōka on the shoulder. She falls back, flat on her ass, head lulling.

“Honōka?!” Kakashi and Minato shout. Fugaku gives her a shrewd once over and sighs, relieved.

“It’s just chakra exhaustion. She’ll be fine.”

Yoshino takes one look at the setup at Orochimaru’s tent and asks, “Do I even want to know?”

Shikaku shrugs. “Depends. Do you like treason?”

Yoshino slowly raises an eyebrow and turns to Fugaku, ignoring the dramatic teenager.

“So, who’s bad, who’s worse, and who _is_ worst?”

Several fingers immediately point to Orochimaru. One finger hesitates between Honōka and Orochimaru. Minato elbows the guilty party on the shoulder.

“Right then—starting with the _worst.”_

Ah—he kind of forgot Yoshino has _opinions_ about the Snake Sannin. He hopes she doesn’t let that get between her and professionalism.

She kneels next to Orochimaru, who looks deathly pale—and that’s saying something. He’s always pale, but the waxy sheen is putting Fugaku’s nerves on edge.

Yoshino tsks, the green light of her healing chakra making Orochimaru look corpse like. “His intracranial pressure is high, but there’re no contusions, save for what appears to be burst capillaries in the roof of the mouth and back of the throat. Who healed those?”

Gaku reluctantly raises his hand. “…me.”

“Decent job. You’re not licensed though. Go write the exam when you get back to Konoha.”

“But—”

Yoshino ignores him.

“So, there are no obvious contusions that could have caused a concussion, but there is a nasty bit of seal work gone wrong. Who do I blame for that?”

“…”

“Minato-kun?”

Minato jumps. “Me? No, no—it’s not a recent seal! And I swear I didn’t touch it!”

“Okay, I believe you.”

Minato sighs.

“It’s not too severe, anyhow. I would recommend removing the seal at the soonest convenience and letting him rest for a week until the swelling goes down on its own.”

“A week?!” Shikaku hisses. “We don’t got a week, woman!”

“A week. No less.” Yoshino glares.

It really is too bad the Sharingan passed her by. Not that he’d ever say that to his cousin’s face. That’s just asking for an ass whooping—and Yoshino is a hair puller.

“Who’s next? Bad or worse?” She asks, pointing to Inoichi and Honōka.

Inoichi and Kakashi point to Honōka. Everyone else points to Inoichi.

“Honōka has chakra exhaustion.” Fugaku tells her. “Inoichi’s head has been hurting since his jutsu backfired on him.”

“Any symptoms other than pain?”

“My ears are kind of ringing, and there were spots and pops of color in my vision right after it happened.”

“Sounds like a migraine. Any nausea or light sensitivity?”

“A little.”

“Drink plenty of water and lie down until it passes.”

Inoichi nods.

Yoshino moves on to Honōka. She checks her pulse and pupils and runs a diagnostic jutsu.

“Huh.” Yoshino frowns.

“Yoshino-chan—”

“Yoshino- _san_.” She corrects Minato.

“We’re the same age, Yoshino—”

“ _San_.”

“…San. Yoshino-san, is something wrong with Honōka-chan?”

“Her chakra is definitely critically low, but there’s none of the usual signs of chakra exertion. No coil burns, or surface burns, no nothing. It’s odd, like the chakra just leaked out.”

Everyone puzzles that out for a moment.

“Chakra transfer?” Fugaku asks.

“Ah,” Kakashi says. “When she was holding Orochimaru-sensei’s hand?”

“Could she do that?” Chōza asks. “I thought you needed to have experience with medical ninjutsu to perform chakra transfers.”

“You do,” Gaku replies. “Otherwise you can fuck up the Chakra Pathway System of the person you’re trying to transfer to.”

Yoshino nods. “Not to mention other risks like nature affinity rejections. You can’t infuse fire nature with water nature, wind with earth, or lightning with anything.”

“Honōka doesn’t have a nature affinity.” Kakashi says. 

“And Honōka-chan’s been attending Tsunade-hime’s seminars, so she probably knows how to do it, in theory.”

Yoshino doesn’t look convinced of either of those statements. Fugaku agrees—everyone has a nature affinity. Except, _maybe,_ Honōka.

“Knowing how it works and being able to pull it off are two completely different things.”

Minato and Kakashi shrug.

“It’s Honōka-chan. If anyone could learn it on the fly, it’d be her.”

Kakashi nods.

Yoshino frowns, then shakes her head.

“Okay, you know what? My work here is done.” She stands and stretches.

“You didn't do anything, woman—”

Yoshino glares at Shikaku. “Could you have used medical ninjutsu to determine that your friend’s lives weren’t in danger?”

“…”

She scoffs at him, hands on her hips. “That’s what I thought.” She turns to leave, waving at them all, cheekily. “Have fun with your treason, Fugaku-onī-sama. I won’t tell the Clan Head.”

“…” Thank Amaterasu that she hates his father more than she hates him.

“Your cousin is weird, Uchiha.” Shikaku scowls. “Not lady-like at all.”

“Say that to her face, I _dare_ you, Nara.”

Fugaku doesn’t say he would pay money to see what happens next—but he would. He definitely would. All bets on Yoshino kicking his ass.

Shikaku rolls his eyes and gestures to Orochimaru and Honōka, both out cold and out of commission for what could be the better part of a week. Not good, considering Ōnoki isn’t stopping for anyone.

“Our heavy hitter is down.”

Minato bites his thumbnail until it bleeds.

“Have there been any orders on how we’re expected to handle the situation?”

Torifu shakes his head.

“The situation is being relayed to Konoha now. Knowing Danzō, he’ll want every last one of us here to die before letting Ōnoki win.”

“What… What about battlefield sabotage?” Minato asks. “Could we slow Ōnoki down with traps and seals and barricades?”

Shikaku shrugs. “As far as time buying methods go, that one’s not bad. Bring your A-game, Minato. We’ll set up the nastiest traps you can think of and pray that the Tsuchikage likes them.”


	56. “Snakes get cold easily.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s true. He proceeds to tell them all about the importance of thermoregulation in snakes and reptiles in general.

War waits for no one, and one week is a woefully short time to prepare for the arrival of a titan in the body of a (very short) man.

Minato, Shikaku, and Gaku leave to survey the land across the border where they plan to lay their traps; Torifu moves to organize the border patrol’s defenses as the most senior jōnin in the camp; and Chōza stays behind to help Kakashi cook chakra restorative meals for Honōka and Orochimaru.

Fugaku takes a walk around the perimeter. Minato left up his so-called notice-me-not-and-cross-not-my-threshold barrier seal (the privacy barrier in short form) so there’s no chance of someone getting at them while they’re vulnerable. Which makes now the perfect time to scout the area for any opportunistic spies expecting easy pickings from Orochimaru’s team while he's expected to be down.

Inoichi tails him out and he frowns at him.

“Yoshino told you to lie down,” he reminds the teenager. “Or is your migraine better already?”

Judging by the way Inoichi is wincing from the sunlight outside the tent, it is, in fact, not better at all.

“I… I need to ask you something, Fugaku-san. About Honōka-kun.”

Shit, he thinks. It shouldn't surprise him that Inoichi noticed something.

Fugaku glances around and taps his temple.

“You good to have that conversation up here?”

Inoichi grimaces, but nods, and makes direct eye contact. He lets Fugaku pull him into his subconscious space.

“Huh. Kind of plain.” Inoichi comments.

“I will kick you out.”

“Er…minimalistic?”

Fugaku rolls his eyes. “You had questions?”

They awkwardly stare at each other for a moment, and Fugaku raises an eyebrow at Inoichi.

“Does… Does Honōka-kun have something sealed inside her? Like, another _entity?”_

Not what Fugaku was expecting.

“I know it’s kind of rude for me to ask you, considering everyone’s edgy enough about the Uchiha and their Sharingan and seeing inside peoples’ hearts and minds and controlling things like super massive chakra constructs that I’m technically not supposed to know about, but…”

“You’re a Yamanaka through and through.” Fugaku snorts. “People tell you stuff.”

Inoichi nods.

“To the best of my knowledge, there is nothing sealed within Honōka.”

“But, I saw, I _heard_ —”

“That doesn’t mean there isn’t something inside of her that doesn’t…belong.”

Inoichi bites his lip.

“I saw… I saw Orochimaru die.”

_“You what?!”_

“Orochimaru _died._ Whatever that seal did, was meant to do, it killed him. I think, maybe, it severed the connection between his mind and his soul? His doorway, nexus, whatever—it immediately began collapsing. Generally, the connection between the mind and soul remains for seven days after death, but his was just…gone.”

Orochimaru died, and Honōka brought him back to life. That wouldn’t be such a big deal—medical ninjutsu revives people from the brink of death all the time. But to revive someone who had their literal soul separated from their body…? He waits for Inoichi to elaborate.

Inoichi looks like he very much does not want to elaborate.

“What did you see, Inoichi?”

“I…it was _crazy,_ Fugaku-san—like, actually insane.”

Fugaku pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Please, Inoichi, use you adult words and try your best to explain.”

Inoichi flashes him a glare but takes a deep breath to muster himself.

“Everything went dark—that usually happens, when someone dies, and his doorway began to close. I told Honōka-kun we had to leave and prepared to grab her and go. I mean, there are stories about my ancestors messing up the timing and getting carried to the afterlife by the King of Hell when the seven days are up…and I really didn’t want that to happen to us!”

“Inoichi, stay on topic.”

“Right. So there was this lake and he was sinking into it and we couldn’t follow him under because of the seal, most likely. He slipped under and died. His inner sanctum went dark and Honōka punched her hand through the surface of the seal which I thought was kind of a lost cause, you know—breaking through the seal was kind of pointless since the man had just died—but then her doorway appeared on the surface of the water and she pulled Orochimaru out through it!” Inoichi pants. 

Fugaku feels like reminding him they don’t actually need to breathe in head spaces.

“Okay, so she fished up his soul somehow. Big deal.” It’s a _very_ big deal, but one that Fugaku’s not going to be picky about.

“Something _spoke_ from inside her doorway, Fugaku, and I couldn’t understand a word it said. The next thing I knew, this bright white light knocked me out of Orochimaru's inner sanctum—and Honōka wasn’t _Honōka.”_

He nods. He had also immediately known the thing masquerading as Honōka was definitely _not_ Honōka—though both Minato and Kakashi had responded as though they thought it were.

Was it Tachibana Tomoe? The vestiges of her soul? He doesn’t think so. Honōka gave him the impression that while she thought of herself as being separate, she was as much Tomoe as Tomoe was Honōka. Two separate lives lived as one continuous stream of thought—a lifetime of memories that had been meant to end and yet still continued into the next.

But who was Tachibana Tomoe? A skilled shinobi from another country? She didn't dress like a shinobi and hadn’t looked like one either. Much too delicate for that. And frankly, there was something not quite… _human_ …about her. Missing face aside.

“What was that _thing,_ Fugaku-san? It wasn’t _natural.”_

“I don’t know—" and he doesn't, "but it clearly meant us no harm. Keep that in mind before your go making any accusations.”

Orochimaru wakes up with a pounding headache and feels _mortified._ He might as well have gutted himself with his own kunai. How stupid could he be? Opening up a suspicious scroll from Danzō and expecting it to be ‘harmless’? He’s surprised he’s not dead!

He’s not dead.

Really?

He tries to sit up, but his entire body feels like lead. A small, warm, body shifts next to him and he frowns. His student is being entirely too clingy—but he appears to be incapacitated. He sighs. Oh well. Nothing to be done about it.

“Orochimaru-sensei?” Minato asks.

There’s a light on in the tent, and he squints towards it, rolling his head.

“You’re awake!” He whisper shouts. Orochimaru winces.

“Unfortunately,” he croaks. His throat feels like someone attempted to rip out his larynx and then proceeded to cauterize it with a rusty blade. It even tastes like a rusty blade. He rolls his head and glares at the IV stand. “Who put painkillers in my IV?”

“Uh…Uchiha Yoshino…san. You were in a lot of pain when you came to earlier.”

He glares. He doesn’t remember that.

“Do you want me to remove them?”

“No—heavens no. They’re too good to waste.” He rasps.

Minato chuckles. “I meant Honōka-chan and Kakashi.”

He cranes his neck and squints down at the not one, but two, genin curled up next to him. One on either side.

He drops his head back onto the pillow and tries to gesture. He can’t lift his arms.

“So-so.” He says aloud and frowns. What on earth did this Yoshino person give him? Whatever it is, he wants the recipe.

Minato giggles. “Do you want me to move them back into their own bedrolls or not?”

“Not.” He decides. It’s cold. “Is it still today?”

Minato laughs some more and he glares at him halfheartedly.

“It’s tomorrow, actually.”

“Oh, happy birthday to me then.” And what a wonderful birthday gift it is. High on painkillers and bedridden. Spectacular. Almost as good as the time Tsunade and Jiraiya challenged him to a drinking contest and he won. He regretted that the next day too. Seriously poor decision making.

Honōka’s selective hearing wakes her up.

“It’s Sensei’s birthday?” She yawns, blinking tired eyes. “Happy birthday, Sensei!”

He crooks his arm to pet her hair. No wonder he couldn’t sit up. She’s lying on top of his arm. Add in how weak he feels and it is simply impossible for him to move.

Kakashi rolls off his other arm and he makes an offended noise at the cold air that creeps up his side.

“You didn’t wish me a happy birthday on my birthday.” Kakashi complains.

“You didn’t tell me when your birthday is?”

“…It’s September fifteenth.”

“Happy belated birthday, Kakashi.” His student genuinely wishes. He echoes her after a moment.

Sakumo’s boy flushes and Orochimaru pats the futon. His arm feels numb.

Minato laughs at Kakashi’s bewildered expression. “Kakashi, he wants you to lie back down.”

“I know, but…why?”

Minato shrugs. “Snakes get cold easily.”

Kakashi lies back down.

“If you say so…”

It’s true. He proceeds to tell them all about the importance of thermoregulation in snakes and reptiles. His first student nods her head at all the appropriate points and his second student sighs and turns over, feigning sleep. The third student can’t stop laughing.

“Minato, do shut up—I am trying to explain lateral undulation.”


	57. current incarnation.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Did we do anything that ever made you question our loyalty? Say anything that ever made you fear our judgment?” Sensei tweaks the small braid he weaved into her hair earlier. “All this time, have you thought we would be afraid of you, rather than for you?”

Unfortunately, he runs out of painkiller by noon the next day and has to deal with every nerve ending in his body protesting the very unfair reality of having narrowly escaped death.

Honōka has once again miraculously recovered from severe chakra exhaustion in an absurdly short amount of time. This leaves her free to torture him (by braiding his hair) while he has no means of escape. Kakashi eye-smiles at him from across the tent while sharpening his shuriken on a whetstone, and offers him no help.

Torifu arrives to drop off their lunch and recognizes that his last nerve is on the brink of expiring and drags his students off to be productive somewhere else. After they’ve all eaten, of course.

The entire border camp is in a state of high alert, preparing for a potential—guaranteed—border skirmish, so there’s no chance of either of his students being spirited away. There’s also the bonus of the visible taunt they pose to any of Danzō’s Root agents expecting to find them distraught over their sensei’s supposed death. 

Minato is conveniently absent, having joined forces with Shikaku and Gaku to engineer some absurd multistage trap spanning several kilometers of Kusa’s rocky gorges with the permission of Kusagakure's head shinobi and the Land of Grass' daimyō. How simple things become when a country’s daimyō _wants_ to work with their shinobi, he thinks, rather than bog them down with ridiculous laws and political red tape.

With all his students away, he has a short measure of time and privacy to wallow in misery, regretting his arrogance. Then Fugaku arrives to interrupt his internal monologuing.

“What?” He growls.

Fugaku regards him drolly. “You’re in a pleasant mood today.”

“I assure you, it has nothing to do with my naturally charming personality and everything to do with Danzō attempting to kill me via an assassination seal.”

Fugaku’s eyes widen. “She broke the seal?”

“Not entirely." He sighs. "It still functions—just not as well as it used to.”

“Inoichi said she punched a hole through it.”

Orochimaru frowns. No one told _him_ that.

Fugaku nods to himself and sits seiza on the tarp that has once again been set up in the far right corner of the tent. A moment passes in which neither he nor Fugaku say anything. Then he switches to sitting cross-legged, and Orochimaru knows this will not be a quick conversation.

“Inoichi thinks there’s something sealed inside your student.”

“And you don’t?”

Fugaku crosses his arms. “I’m not sure, so I’m asking you.”

He narrows his eyes at Fugaku.

“What do you know, Fugaku?”

“…”

“Well?”

Their wills clash for a moment, and Fugaku lasts longer than most—he’ll give the man that much.

“I can’t say. I promised I wouldn’t.”

Orochimaru props himself up on one elbow, grabbing Minato’s bedroll to use as back support. This isn't a conversation he can have lying down.

“I suppose she would confide in you—there’s not much she can hide from your Sharingan.”

Fugaku awkwardly rubs his nose, a juvenile gesture for a man who admittedly looks older than he does.

“It’s less about what I saw and more about what Honōka saw. One secret owed for another.”

“You blackmailed my student into telling you a secret?” He doesn’t know whether he should be angry with him or asking for tips.

“Don’t say it like that. I wasn’t expecting her to tell me what she did—I was thinking something along the lines of you being secretly terrified of insects, or something.”

Fugaku grins.

He glares.

“It is not that I am _terrified_ of insects. I simply cannot stand them.”

“You roast every giant centipede you come across.”

He harrumphs. That’s just common sense. Their bite is _horrid_.

“You managed to squeeze a secret from my abnormally secretive student, and now you want to know more from me?”

Fugaku nods.

“Why should I tell you anything, Uchiha?”

His mouth twitches and he rubs the corners of his lips, like frowning is such an effort for him. Perhaps it is. Orochimaru thinks Fugaku is a much different person when he is away from his clan—away from his father, in particular. He tries hard not to think of the various parallels he may share with his student. It only serves to make him angrier at this point.

“Because I’m worried about Honōka, just like you are.” Fugaku takes a deep breath. “I don’t know if you were conscious for it, or not, but something else acted in Honōka’s stead while you were dying.”

Not dying—dead. 

Orochimaru knows he ‘died’ as certainly as he knows his own name. He also knows that while he can remember Honōka’s chakra being present during his revival, the hand that had pulled him from the Sanzu River had not _felt_ like his student’s hand.

“I am aware.”

Fugaku nods. “I thought so. Minato and Kakashi reacted as though they knew the form it, they, (she?) took.”

He narrows his eyes at Fugaku, again.

“Which form?”

“A teenager with long black hair and no face.”

Ah. He’s getting close to having all the pieces.

“Indeed. Honōka has shown us that particular transformation several times now.”

Fugaku has a dubious expression on his face.

“That wasn’t a normal transformation—”

“We know,” Orochimaru interrupts. “All of Honōka’s techniques are irregular.”

“Yeah, I get that—trust me, I _get_ that—but there was something almost _wrong_ about it. For a moment, I’m not even sure it _was_ Honōka.”

And now they’ve come full circle. Is there something inside his student that does not belong?

“I told Inoichi there’s nothing sealed inside Honōka, and I honestly don’t think there is. Because whatever did that clearly has free rein to come and go as it pleases.”

“Are you suggesting my student is possessed?”

Fugaku looks helpless for a moment.

“Maybe…probably…yeah. Yeah—I think your student is possessed by something.”

“You think it may be malign.” He accuses. He shouldn’t be surprised by his supposed ‘allies’ assuming the worst of him and his student. Typical.

Fugaku throws his hands up in surrender.

“No, I think it might be…I’m not sure what I think it might be.” He sighs. “Whatever it is, I think it’s more capricious than that—neutral, maybe.”

He _understands_ Fugaku’s frustration with that assessment. It’s much easier to deal in absolutes—in black and white, good and evil—than it is to deal with gray areas and neutral entities. 

He considers.

“Very well. I will tell you what I think my student is hiding from me and you will tell me if I am correct.” Or at least hint when he is close.

Fugaku looks conflicted, but nods. Either his curiosity is greater than his loyalty, or his concern is. Orochimaru thinks it might be the latter. He’s _hoping_ it is, for Fugaku's sake.

“Upon meeting her first summons, I overheard them have a very strange conversation.” A conversation that he has been puzzling over ever since. “They remarked upon each other’s _changed_ appearances as though they had met before and compared their _previous_ appearances to that of shed skin. Kohaku, her summons, also referred to her as Mikogami.”

Fugaku’s back straightens and his eyes widen. _“Mikogami?”_

He nods. The Uchiha are one of the few remaining families that still adhere to the old practices; the practices from before the time of the Great Sage. Therefore, Fugaku is one of the few people who would know both the connotation and denotation of the term 'Mikogami'.

“However, Honōka being so is debunked by her family history—or is by that of her _current_ incarnation.”

Fugaku freezes, then nods stiffly, saying nothing more to confirm or deny Orochimaru’s suspicions.

“As Honōka’s current parentage makes it impossible for her to qualify as a Mikogami, it is only natural that I assume it is a previous life that the snakes are revering.”

Fugaku’s shoulders sag. “Revering? There’s _more?”_

“Oh, yes—the snakes are quite a gossipy lot. And they are just too thrilled to have their Kamigakari speaking for them again.”

 _“Kamigakari?!_ Possessed by a _deity?!_ That’s what they’re calling her?” Fugaku looks fit to be tied. “You knew and didn't say anything? To anyone?!”

“I assumed the snakes were exaggerating, or being dramatic—they can be quite…theatrical.”

“Inoichi was right; this _is_ crazy.” Fugaku massages his temples. “Are they calling her anything else?”

He smiles, because this was the part that originally caught his attention.

“They say she’s the daughter of Gozuryū, the Five-headed Dragon.”

Privacy barrier or not, Honōka knows something is up with Sensei and Fugaku.

They were arguing at first, and Sensei got _annoyed_ with him—but only for a moment. Fugaku then felt contrite about something or another, and Sensei probably gave him his smug-cat-that-ate-the-canary smirk. She tries to stop eavesdropping on them after that by focusing on not stabbing herself with her paring knife.

Then Sensei gives her a mental tug and her stomach drops. He bullied Fugaku into divulging her secret, she just _knows_ it.

Kakashi notices her stiffen and goes on high alert mode. His nose twitches behind his mask and he scans their surroundings. She sighs.

“Honōka, what is it?”

“Sensei’s calling for me.”

Kakashi is surprised. She never grumbles about Sensei calling for her.

“Are you in trouble?” He asks, eyes narrowing. “What did you do? You shouldn’t prank someone who’s bedridden, Honōka.”

“I did not _prank_ Sensei!” That’s just cruel!

Kakashi doesn’t look convinced.

“Are you in trouble?” He repeats.

“…maybe.”

“Torifu-san, Honōka needs to go back to the tent.” Kakashi, ever the rule lover in the face of greater authority, is quick to throw her under the bus. Honōka winces.

Torifu nods and flicks a potato peel off his lap.

“I’ll walk you two back.”

Kakashi reluctantly leaves her at the tent and goes back to potato peeling with Torifu. She takes a deep breath and enters.

Fugaku’s serving Sensei tea. He pours a cup for her and sets it down next to him.

She sits down, seiza, and pouts. She takes a deep breath.

“You promised,” she reminds him. “A secret for a secret.”

And he feels really guilty—remorseful, even.

“We didn’t shake on it.” He says, instead of apologizing.

She scowls at him.

“But I did renege on a pact made in good faith. I am sorry, and I understand if you don’t want to keep my secret anymore.”

“Hmph.” She juts her chin at him, stubbornly. “I told you, I’m the best secret keeper. I take all my secrets to the grave.”

“Apparently.” Sensei dryly remarks.

She fidgets. She walked into that one. 

Fugaku clears his throat and stands up.

“Right. I’ll just be, leaving—now.”

She bites her lip to hold in a giggle despite the way her stomach is twisting in apprehension. She’s never seen Fugaku be so awkward before.

“Nice braid, by the way. It really suits you, Orochimaru.”

Sensei snorts at him, tossing the braid over one shoulder. She thinks Sensei could pull off any hairstyle—even a messy half remembered braid.

Fugaku leaves, and she pokes her finger into her cup of tea.

“Do not play with your tea, Honōka. It is rude.”

She pouts. There are tears prickling in her eyes already. They itch and she wants to rub at them, but she wants to pretend they aren’t there if she can. Sensei clucks his tongue at her.

“I am not upset with you, Honōka… Well, perhaps I am a _little_ upset.”

Her lip wobbles and she tucks her chin in to hide her tears under her long bangs. She needs another haircut, soon.

“I am not upset by the secret you kept—or even that you chose to share it with Fugaku over me. I am upset that you continue to feel as though you cannot trust me, or Kakashi, or Minato, with any of your secrets—and that you are constantly afraid of how we might react.”

She stifles a sob and he pats the futon. Honōka crawls onto the edge and drops her face in Sensei’s lap, muffling her cries with the thick futon cover.

Sensei rubs her back.

“Did we do anything that ever made you question our loyalty? Say anything that ever made you fear our judgment?” Sensei tweaks the small braid he weaved into her hair earlier. “All this time, have you thought we would be afraid of you, rather than for you?”

She shakes her head to the first two questions, but nods to the last.

“Oh, you daft child.”

Sensei hauls her into his arms, hugging her tightly. He continues rubbing her back, occasionally smoothing down her hair, and lets her cry into the crook of his neck. His hands are always cold and his flak jacket usually acts as a barrier between them, but without it, Sensei feels warm and his pulse is like a soothing drumbeat against her cheek.

“You should never be afraid of what you are, _who_ you are, around me."

"I will protect you, always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gozuryū is a five headed dragon that terrorized a village in the story Enoshima Engi. Benzaiten then descended from the heavens and rose an island to stand on. She charmed Gozuryū into behaving and even helping the village instead. He wanted her to marry him, but she refused--or so the story goes.


	58. Child of the Unbegotten Union

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She hasn’t talked about her family in so long—her _real_ family. She thinks it should hurt, or hurt more, to speak of them. But, Kakashi is asking her—and somehow it hurts _less_ to talk about them aloud, than it does to think about them, alone.

Sensei doesn’t force her to sit down with Minato and Kakashi—but he kind of does. He wants an explanation regarding the various things he’s been overhearing from the snakes (bigmouths, the lot of them!) and guilts her about her trust issues.

Again.

She would be upset with him if he didn’t genuinely think he was helping her.

The result is a very awkward evening meal. Sensei periodically sends her a mental nudge to get on with it and Kakashi picks up enough of the cues of their silent conversation that he becomes curious, shooting looks between them; and Minato just ignores the awkwardness in favor of gushing about the traps he's been setting up.

“…And for the trap in the dry riverbed, we buried a bunch of modified explosive tags. As the Iwa-nin move over it, the tags will trigger thousands of weak electrical charges that will liquefy the ground. The idea is to damage their supplies more than anything—and with the cold weather we’ve been having, it’ll be very unpleasant to get cleaned up from.”

“…Sounds great, Minato.” Kakashi says, slowly chewing a mouthful of rice, mask pulled down to his chin.

He used to eat really fast to avoid showing his face—but then he choked and she had to use the Heimlich maneuver on him. It was so embarrassing that he decided showing his face and eating like a normal person was the lesser evil. 

“When did I stop being ‘Minato-sensei’?” Minato mourns.

Kakashi shrugs. “It’s easier if there’s just one sensei. Less confusing.”

“Orochimaru-sensei,” Minato whines. “You stole my student.”

Sensei snorts. “You can have him back for the chūnin exams, assuming Sarutobi-sensei does not give him a field promotion before then.”

“Can I have Honōka-chan too?”

Kakashi nods his head, excitedly.

“Heavens no—there won’t be any competition left by the time the first round is over if we put them on the same team.”

She blows a raspberry at him and he moves his dinner tray, scowling at her.

“Honōka, not at the table.” Sensei scolds.

“We’re not at the table, Sensei.” They’re sitting around his futon because she insisted on not leaving Sensei out.

He rolls his eyes at her. “Not at mealtime, then.”

She sticks her tongue out at him instead.

Sensei retaliates by sticking his tongue out at her and her eyes pop out of her head.

“Woah, Sensei!—”

“Not at mealtime!” Minato shouts, thoroughly grossed out.

Kakashi’s jaw drops and he tries sticking his tongue out as far as it will go—which isn’t far. He’s probably never stuck his tongue out at anyone in his entire life.

“That’s so cool! Why didn’t you tell us you could do that, Sensei?!” She wants to learn how to do it too—without using a transformation. That’s too easy.

Sensei retracts his tongue and smirks.

“It must have slipped my mind—much like certain things have slipped yours.”

“…”

Kakashi and Minato look at each other.

“Should we leave, or something?” Kakashi offers.

“That would defeat the purpose of this exercise.” Sensei replies.

 _‘Exercise?’_ Minato mouths. “What exercise?”

“Sensei thinks I have trust issues.”

Kakashi looks surprised, but it’s all for show. “Really? I had no idea.” He deadpans—or tries to. He seems to have forgotten his mask is still down and is grinning unapologetically. Most of his teeth have grown in already—which isn’t fair. Hers are still pointy little nubs.

Minato coughs to hide his laugh. She glares at them both.

“What seems to be Honōka-chan’s issue, Orochimaru-sensei?” Minato asks, struggling to keep a straight face.

“She is under the misguided impression that we may ridicule or otherwise alienate her for something she has no control over.”

Kakashi’s and Minato’s teasing good humor disappears.

“Seriously?” Minato says. He feels guilty—like it’s somehow his fault she feels that way.

Kakashi just snorts at her. “Are you stupid?”

She hums unhappily at Sensei. She doesn’t want to do this right now.

“How about we finish eating and talk about what’s bothering you, Honōka-chan?” Minato suggests, ever the mediator.

Kakashi scoffs. “She’s just going to get in her sleeping bag and ignore us after she finishes eating.”

Honōka shovels her remaining rice and gamey meat in her mouth and does just that.

“See, burying her head in the sand, again.”

“Are you actually that good at predicting what Honōka-chan will do? Or do you think she did it because you suggested it first?” Minato asks.

“You’re all being mean—”

“And you don’t like it—trust me, _we know_ , Honōka.” Kakashi says.

Sensei sighs. Now he feels guilty.

“That is enough, Kakashi, Minato. Honōka is not ready to talk about it. I should not have pushed the matter so soon.”

Kakashi grumbles and Minato awkwardly pats the top of her head, or what’s showing of it.

“Sorry, Honōka-chan. I know how hard it is for you to talk about yourself. Take your time, okay? We’re here to listen when you’re ready.”

A couple hours pass and she’s still awake. Minato only just blew out the lamps, having stayed up late to make more ground liquefying tags. Kakashi is already dozing and Sensei’s eyes are closed, but he’s still thinking his thoughts. He’s extremely focused, so he’s likely doing some kind of image training, _Dragon Ball_ style. He tried to teach her but she still prefers qigong or tai chi. Meditation makes her sleepy.

She doesn’t think even meditation would help her sleep right now, though—she’s wide awake. 

Honōka takes a deep breath and rolls over, poking Kakashi in the cheek. He growls at her.

“What?”

“…”

“Honōka, _what?”_

“…” She takes another deep breath and rehearses what to say in her head. Her voice catches in her throat. “…I…”

“Honōka?” He sounds concerned.

“I…” It was so easy to tell Fugaku. Why is it so hard to tell Kakashi? To tell Minato? To tell _Sensei?_ She doesn’t _want_ to be afraid! “…I—”

Kakashi reaches for her hand in the dark and squeezes it. He says nothing—just waits for her to catch her breath. She’s panicking a bit. They’re going to think she’s a liar. Or worse—they’ll believe her. 

She…she’s not even sure she believes herself, anymore.

 _Say it!_ She thinks—screams at herself, really. Four words. _I. Have. Lived. Before…!_

She can’t do it.

Two words, then?

“I died.”

“!?”

Kakashi doesn’t know what she means at all from those two words alone. He doesn’t know how far back she’s talking and is more worried she’s talking about something recent. Minato is oddly quiet.

“Before. Before I… Before I lived this life. I died somewhere _else_ and was born again _here.”_

Kakashi’s grip slackens and she pulls away. Then he's threading his fingers through hers and locking their hands together, palm to sweaty palm. She’s so nervous she feels like she’s going to be sick.

No one says anything for a long time.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Kakashi asks.

“No,” she feels _so_ relieved. _“Yes.”_

Kakashi squeezes her hand again and she squeezes back until her hand _hurts._ The pain is _real._ This _moment_ is real. _Honōka_ is real. And she thinks, if all these things are real—can’t Tomoe have been real too? Her other self from another lifetime? Her other home from another reality?

“My name _was_ Tachibana Tomoe. And I was fifteen years old…when I died.”

A fresh wave of shock from her teammates. She thinks Sensei might have thought she was older, but any age she could have listed would still have startled Minato and Kakashi.

“You don’t act like you’re fifteen.” Kakashi accuses. She smiles in the dark.

“Do you know what a fifteen-year-old is supposed to act like?”

“…No?”

“Take it from me then: people don’t grow up, they get older. And I say getting older is boring and maturity is overrated.”

Minato laughs, and it’s not something tinged in awkwardness for once. Sensei chuckles, too. 

“Wiser words I have never heard.” He agrees.

“…”

“Honōka…how did you die?”

“Kakashi!” Minato scolds. “You can’t just ask her how she died!” What if it was traumatic? He’s probably thinking.

She laughs and they all tense. Laughing in the face of death isn’t something shinobi take lightly.

“You wouldn’t understand. It doesn’t exist here.”

Confusion again. They really _don’t_ understand.

“I was somewhere else—somewhere different. It’s not like _here,_ over _there.”_

“The moon?” Kakashi asks, because _here_ and _there_ share a certain legend about a princess from the moon. She laughs again.

“I’m not an alien, Bakashi. But, you know, the moon I saw from there is the same moon I see from here.”

“Parallel universe?” Minato asks, excited. “Alternative reality?”

“I don’t know. Maybe?”

“Some of the things you just _know,”_ Kakashi guesses. “They were the same there as they are here? Like the Hyūga code and those Chainīzu characters?”

“Yeah. Weird, huh?”

“So that’s why you’re so good at everything—you learned it all before.”

She giggles. Not quite.

“Ninjutsu…doesn’t exist over there.” Not like it does here, at least, she thinks.

“…!”

She’s not sure who’s more affronted by that, Sensei or Minato. Kakashi isn’t exactly happy about it either. They all think ninjutsu is the best thing in the world.

“Taijutsu though—tai chi and qigong, or chikō, jūdō—those were all disciplines my grandfather taught me.”

And she learned them, because they were good for her grandfather’s physical health—and good for her mental health.

“I had…a lot of anger issues when I was young, over there. I didn’t get along with _anybody,_ and martial arts were supposed to teach me how to control all these impulses I had.”

Kakashi scoffs. He sounds dubious—he’s been on the receiving end of her temper more than once. “Did it work?”

“…No. I kept at it though, because it was the only thing me and my ojī-chan had in common.”

“What about the rest of your family?”

She hasn’t talked about her family in so long—her _real_ family. She thinks it should hurt, or hurt more, to speak of them. But, Kakashi is asking her—and somehow it hurts _less_ to talk about them aloud, than it does to think about them, alone.

“My mother died young. I never knew her.” Much like Kakashi never knew his mother. “There was a picture of her on the altar. She was very pretty. My father didn’t talk about her much and was always busy managing the land he inherited from their marriage. I had no cousins, no aunts, no uncles, or other grandparents.”

“What were you over there? Not a shinobi—you said there was no ninjutsu…” He’s still struggling to understand how there can just be _no_ ninjutsu.

“I don’t know. Just a regular girl, I suppose.”

Kakashi doesn’t buy that for one second.

“Yeah, right.” But he quickly moves on to his next questions, rapid fire. “Where did you live? What did you do?”

“I lived in a big city—bigger than Konohagakure.”

Kakashi scoffs. He doesn’t think there’s any city in the world, here or there, bigger than Konoha.

“Thirty-four million people lived in my home city.” She grins. She hopes he can see it in the dark.

Minato chokes and starts muttering number under his breath. Sensei is vaguely amused but not interested in the math or logistics of financing such a large city.

“That’s…a lot.” Kakashi says. Konoha is big—but it’s not an urban megacity like Tokyo. There’s no way for him to fathom a number like thirty-four million in the context of living people. “What did you do?” He asks again.

She shrugs one shoulder and snuggles into her bedroll against the chill of the night. Kakashi's hand is warm. Hers is just clammy.

“I was a student at a school, and I wanted to go to university, eventually. Girls were allowed to attend universities over there."

“And on my family’s land was a Benten-sha, so I suppose I was the heiress of that, too.”

Sensei’s interest piques. This is what he’s been most curious about, thanks to the snakes and their big mouths.

“Your conversation with Kohaku—it was during your lifetime, over _there,_ that you met him?”

Kind of…? 

“…He was already dead when I met him over there.” Which is why she is mildly creeped out when Kohaku knows details about her life that she never told anyone, ever; or when he calls her Mikogami, or Daughter of our Lord Gozuryū, or Lady born of all things flowing, or the Child of the Unbegotten Union. Most of it sounds like nonsense, even to her. Just how many epithets does he think she needs?

Sometimes she feels like screaming at the snakes—wants to tell them her mother didn’t kill herself slowly for the bastard child of a high school sweetheart who disappeared the moment he found out what his seed had wrought. Child of an oni, indeed.

“Ah,” Sensei says, oblivious to her scathing inner dialogue. “The white snake that cursed you.”

“Yes. I thought I must have been really hated by Benten-sama if one life wasn’t enough atonement.”

“And now they call you her liaison, and a messenger from the forgotten gods. It seems your work never ends.”

“…?” Kakashi is so confused. She almost feels bad for him.

Minato stops crunching numbers, all thoughts crashing.

“I’m sorry— _what?_ Gods?!”

Sensei chuckles at Minato’s reaction.

“The snakes are calling Honōka their Mikogami—among other things.”

Kakashi frowns. “What’s that?”

“Are you actually?” Minato asks. “That…that actually might explain several things.”

It doesn’t. It doesn’t explain anything, because she’s not some god’s child. Her mother was _not_ a Tamayori-hime, and her birth father was _not_ a kannushi. There was no ritual, no blessing, no nothing. Just two teenagers in the throes of lust; her sweet, naïve, mother—and some jackass Tomoe never even knew the name of.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Everyone is holding their breath. Except Sensei. She let out a bit of killing intent, thinking about that asshole.

She…she doesn’t wish death on the man that literally abused her to within an inch of her life. But the man who sired her? The man who broke her mother’s heart and left her father to pick up the broken pieces of his childhood-friend-turned-wife? Deprived her grandfather of his only child, the gem of his heart? 

She wishes _he_ were dead.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” She repeats. “It’s…not what you guys think it is.”

It’s ugly. _She’s_ ugly. There were no gods involved in anything—just one man crueler than the most vile demon.

_A child that does not resemble their parents is the child of an oni._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tamayori-hime is both a goddess, and a ritual position in a super old Shinto practice. Basically, a miko or priestess would marry a god and a kannushi, a male caretaker of the shrine, would be the proxy for the god to consummate the marriage. Any child born from that union would be a Mikogami, the child of the god.
> 
> The thing is, that isn't what happened at all, in either of Honōka's lives. The snakes keep insisting that's what she is though, and it's making her feel like an imposter.


	59. You look flushed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She pulls her sandals off and crawls into her bedroll. She blames her sudden cold on her dumb shinobi footwear. Whoever thought it was a good idea to walk around with naked toes in near freezing weather? Honōka vows to buy herself a pair of proper closed-toe boots when she gets back to Konoha, even if she has to order them custom made.

November arrives. They have one more month of border patrol—assuming their orders don’t change or the border skirmish doesn’t escalate into full-blown war.

She and Kakashi are roasting yams on a campfire with Minato and Gaku, waiting for Sensei to return from the bathing tent. He’s finally recovered from chakra exhaustion and of course the first thing he prioritizes is clean hair. Some things never change—Sensei’s vanity is one of them.

He’s coming down the homestretch, long black hair piled on top of his head in a wet bun—which Honōka thinks looks very cute. Someone whistles at him, and the resulting death glare sends a group of young men running for cover.

She has to bite her lip to keep her laughter down, but Gaku doesn’t even try.

“With all these brats hanging off you now, the younger ones think they can try their luck, huh?” Gaku cackles.

“Please,” Sensei snorts. “I have no interest in younger men.”

Kakashi screws up his nose. He doesn’t want to hear about anyone’s preferences, let alone Sensei’s. She agrees. No one is good enough for her sensei, anyway.

“Damn,” Gaku jokes (he better be joking, she thinks). “That means I don't got a chance, huh?”

Minato chokes, Kakashi growls, and Gaku laughs at them both.

“Sorry, Gaku-nī,” she pats him on the arm, consolingly. “You aren’t pretty enough for my sensei.”

Gaku sputters and dissolves into a wheezing fit of laughter. Chairo pins his ears back at him, like he thinks his partner is being an idiot.

Sensei’s mouth quirks up and he walks over to give her a quick pat on the head. She’s sitting right in the smoke though and he moves to stand downwind of it instead.

It’s also cold enough that most everyone has donned their winter coats. She can’t believe the temperature difference from one week to another—it’s extreme. She scoots as close to the fire as she can, nearly roasting her frozen toes.

The trees are mostly bare, and frost grows on the dead, dying, and dormant vegetation in the mornings before dawn now. Konoha only ever sees a couple centimeters of snow in late December or early January. Snow that sometimes lingers in street corners and under trees, but only ever for a week, maybe two.

It snowed in the camp last night while she was asleep. Brr!

She sneezes, and Kakashi offers her his scarf. It’s the green one with the circles and dashes from the Academy. 

“Get out of the smoke, Honōka.” Sensei says.

“It’s warmer on this side of the fire,” she protests, taking Kakashi’s scarf. It’s not long enough for him anymore, so she might as well keep it, she thinks. “Is it supposed to be this cold here?”

Minato considers. “It _is_ unseasonably cool, isn’t it?” He’s dressed up in more layers than anyone else. Like Sensei, he does not like the cold at all.

She pokes at her smoldering yam with a stick—it feels done. Honōka transforms her hands, thickening the pads of her fingers and palms into a porcelain like material, and picks it up. She stands and skips over to Sensei, offering him half of her snack.

He takes it from her, covering his hands with a layer of chakra, and she ducks under his arm to stand inside his cape-style jacket, leeching up his warmth.

“Man, why can’t my little sis be half as cute as Honōka?” Gaku complains. “Tsume would sooner fight me than share her food with me.”

Sensei ignores Gaku in favor of carefully pulling apart his half of the yam, letting it vent and cool before trading it for her untouched half and repeating the process. She happily chows down while he does.

Gaku watches them fondly and turns to help Kakashi with his yam, only to get grunted at for his trouble. Minato winces.

“Kakashi doesn’t like people handling his food, Gaku-san.”

Gaku just sighs. “I should have guessed.”

They eat in silence for a few minutes, then the entire camp goes eerily quiet.

Chairo sits up next to Gaku, tall ears swiveling. His tail thumps the ground, uneasily. A faint tremble goes through the ground and a log in the fire pit rolls and cracks in two, sparks jumping out of the burning coals.

Minato opens his mouth to say something and Gaku holds his hand out.

“Sh.”

Honōka matches her signature to the general ambiance with Shōkyo and expands her sensory-field. She finds a large group of Iwa-nin, panicking and in a fair amount of distress. There are injuries, probably fatalities.

“Iwa-nin. About a thousand strong.” She estimates, peeking her head out from under Sensei’s cloak. “Ninety-six km north-northwest of here. They’ve encountered unexpected resistance and are backing off.”

Minato frowns. “They went high. I thought they would have tried to cross at Kannabi Bridge for sure.”

Gaku growls, low. “They must have noticed the traps, somehow. Good thing we set explosives in the rocky gorges to the north as well.”

“It must have triggered a rock slide.” Minato grimaces. “That’s not what I intended to happen, but I guess it’s not an unwelcome boon.”

She nods. Most of the signatures are retreating. They must have lost a lot of supplies, and she thinks quite a few shinobi are buried by the rock slide itself.

She concentrates. One signature feels…odd. Like it’s way up in the air.

“Honōka-chan?” Minato asks. “What is it?”

“Can…can shinobi fly?”

“Is there one airborne signature?” Sensei asks.

She nods, mouth dry.

“That would be Ōnoki.” Sensei gently squeezes her shoulder. “Familiarize yourself with his signature, Honōka, and keep well away from him.”

Honōka nods again and swallows. His signature is heavy. Powerful, dense, and _upset._

She thinks it’ll take some times for the large force of Iwa-nin to recoup and gather themselves up again, and she hopes they won’t give up on their buried nin, either. That Ōnoki’s signature isn’t moving makes her wonder if he’s not already directing the recovery efforts himself. 

It makes her feel complicated emotions.

On one hand, Ōnoki is the ruthless Tsuchikage that hates all the other shinobi villages equally. On the other hand, he’s just Ōnoki, a man whose love for his village is equal to, or greater than, his hate.

And she wants to believe his love is greater, because it might be the only thing he’s willing to back down for.

Honōka keeps a close eye on the situation for the next few hours, sitting in the Intelligence Division tent with Inoichi and Shikaku. They’ve taken over since Kōmori was declared MIA.

The smell of brewing coffee makes her break out in a cold sweat, but she focuses on sensing the movements of the Iwa-nin and their Tsuchikage. They’re already closer than predicted—and, had they gone just a little farther north, they would have likely avoided the traps altogether and crossed the border with the Konoha Border Patrol being none the wiser.

This tells them the Iwa-nin want to avoid a pitched battle for as long as possible—and that they have a specific goal in mind. Shikaku thinks they’re aiming for the pasture lands and storage silos. The Land of Fire produces the most buckwheat flour of all the elemental nations, and taking it out would cripple the economy and cause mass food shortages.

She sneezes into her coat’s fluffy wool collar again. Inoichi jumps. He’s been on pins and needles around her ever since the incident with Sensei.

Shikaku glares at her.

“That’s the third time you’ve sneezed in the last fifteen minutes. Are you sick?”

“…I was fine when I woke up.” She sniffs.

He stomps over and feels her forehead with the back of his hand.

“You have a fever.” He’s _not_ happy with her. “Go back to your tent and get some rest. I don’t need you here spreading your sickness.”

“But—”

“No buts, get out of here.”

“What about—”

“Inoichi’s got it under control now that he knows where to look. Get out of here, you snot-nosed-brat.”

She ducks her face into her collar. Her nose is running quite a lot.

“Okay…”

She leaves the Intelligence Division and uses shunshin the entire way back to her team’s tent. It’s not far, but she’s paranoid about Danzō’s agents—specifically. the ones that don’t repress their emotions. She hasn’t found any because of the sheer number of shinobi in the camp, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t around.

She enters the tent. Kakashi is helping Minato copy out more seals again. They both glance up as she walks past them and kicks out her bedroll, angrily.

“Is something the matter, Honōka-chan? You look flushed.”

“Caught a cold.” She grumbles. “Shikaku kicked me out.”

Kakashi scoffs. “I thought idiots couldn’t catch colds?”

“Is that what happened to you?” She snaps.

“…”

“…”

Minato laughs, awkwardly. “Should I put the kettle on? Will a cup of tea make you feel better, Honōka-chan?”

She nods once, sniffling. Kakashi sighs and gets up too.

“Do you want something to eat?”

She doesn’t. She didn’t eat much for lunch either. Just the yam. Her stomach feels tense from sneezing so much.

“I’ll make rice porridge from the leftovers.” Kakashi declares. “You better eat some.”

She pulls her sandals off and crawls into her bedroll. She blames her sudden cold on her dumb shinobi footwear. Whoever thought it was a good idea to walk around with naked toes in near freezing weather? Honōka vows to buy herself a pair of proper closed-toe boots when she gets back to Konoha, even if she has to order them custom made.


	60. Danzō strikes again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarity hits Honōka like a Doton to the face, and her horrified expression is priceless. She squeezes his hand.
> 
> “Kakashi, I think I’m afraid of insects now. We can’t do the prank we were planning for Sensei anymore.”

Honōka runs a fever for two days straight. On the third day, her chakra bottoms out and her fever breaks, having burned through everything it could use as fuel. Yoshino is called for, again, and immediately finds the source of Honōka’s mysterious illness.

A rogue kikaichū infestation.

Orochimaru-sensei just about loses it. He and Torifu check the camp registry for the names of any Aburame Clan members on duty to help remove the parasitic infestation, only to discover that every clan member was reassigned mid October, due to their kikaichū techniques being less effective in colder temperatures. 

Yoshino thinks the sudden cold snap likely caused the kikaichū to begin aggressively attacking Honōka’s Chakra Pathway System. It’s also the only reason they could pick up on it now, as opposed to _later._ Later would have been _bad._

With no other choice, they (Yoshino and Orochimaru-sensei) operate on Honōka, removing the parasitic insects that somehow burrowed into Honōka's gut with her unawares. Kakashi can't watch and spends the early morning hours watching the sunrise with Minato instead.

So Danzō strikes again. If he had hackles, they would be up. He doesn’t though, and he just feels helplessly frustrated. How’s he supposed to protect Honōka if things he doesn’t understand keep happening to her?

And then to make a bad day worse, what they’ve all been waiting for—dreading—happens. Iwa and the Tsuchikage cross their border. It’s an act of war and the camp mobilizes.

Minato, Orochimaru-sensei, Gaku, Fugaku, Torifu and the Baka-trio—they move out to intercept the roughly nine hundred strong Iwa-nin. The landslide four days prior did _some_ damage to the estimated one thousand strong force, but still less than they hoped for. The available shinobi for the Konoha Border Patrol is only seven hundred and fifty strong, though Konoha-nin are more skilled than Iwa-nin on average. Their odds are about even, but only if Orochimaru-sensei and Minato can somehow distract Ōnoki long enough for him to consider retreating.

A year ago, Kakashi thinks he would have told Minato he was ready to fight by his side—to the death, even. Today, he recognizes his place in this is instead at Honōka’s side, protecting her while she recovers from chakra exhaustion (for the third time) and the emergency field surgery to remove the kikaichū infestation from her small intestines.

Yoshino is also staying with them to be a visible deterrent in case any of Danzō’s men are still slinking around. As a medical-nin, she’s expected to take part in high-risk battles _only as a last resort_ , so it doesn’t appear suspicious to anyone else having her watch over Honōka, who is in post-surgery recovery.

The other remaining shinobi are the fifteen genin from five jōnin teachers, nine other medical nin, a handful of chūnin level sensors with abilities too precious to waste in battle, and a few others down with injuries.

“Kakashi-kun, please stop pacing. You’re making me dizzy.”

He sits and then stands again. The privacy barrier has been running without pause since the scroll incident. He shouldn’t be so twitchy. The camp is safe, secret, _hidden_. Their tent is also secreted away behind Minato's superior fūinjutsu. He needs to be calm, in case anything _does_ happen.

Honōka sighs, and he bounds over to her. Yoshino said she wouldn’t wake up for a while, because of her severe chakra exhaustion, but it’s Honōka. He’s not surprised she’s up sooner rather than later.

Yoshino is.

“Damn,” she swears under her breath, running a diagnostic jutsu over Honōka’s chest. “This kid’s chakra recovery rate is insane!”

Kakashi figured it was something like that. Honōka has less chakra than him, but she can also eat lunch and take an hour long break and hit training again like it’s a new day instead of the second half of an eight-hour session.

She groggily blinks, red pupils shrinking against the sudden light.

“Kakashi?” She asks.

“Right here,” he says. “How are you feeling?”

She frowns. “My belly is itchy.”

Yoshino smiles. Kakashi guesses that’s not bad as far as post-surgery complaints go. 

“Hello, Honōka, my name is Uchiha Yoshino. I operated on your lower abdomen earlier this morning. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to gain your consent first—you were a bit out of it.”

Honōka blinks rapidly, and Kakashi grabs her hand before she can panic.

“Why…?” She asks.

“You had chakra parasites—they were eating up your chakra and causing your flu-like symptoms.” Yoshino replies, succinctly. 

‘Oh,’ Honōka mouths.

“Orochimaru-sensei said she could operate.” Kakashi tells Honōka. “And he assisted, I think.”

Kakashi thinks Orochimaru-sensei would have done the surgery himself, if it hadn’t involved insects. They _really_ creep him out.

“Oh. That’s fine then.” She pauses. “I had parasites?”

“Kikaichū, little chakra eating insects that the Aburame Clan breed and care for.” Yoshino explains. “They make their nest inside the body of their host to propagate. You had quite the infestation.”

Clarity hits Honōka like a Doton to the face, and her horrified expression is priceless. She squeezes his hand.

“Kakashi, I think I’m afraid of insects now. We can’t do the prank we were planning for Sensei anymore.”

He solemnly nods. He thought it was a _terrible_ idea, anyway. Orochimaru-sensei would have flattened them for it.

Her sudden clarity morphs into confusion.

“Where is everybody?”

Kakashi sighs. Sensor types.

“Iwa crossed the border.”

Honōka moves to sit up, and he and Yoshino hold her down by either shoulder.

“Take it slow today.” Yoshino says. “I had to make quite a large incision to get all the insects out—and while it looks healed, I’m no Tsunade. The scar tissue could still separate if you tax it too soon.”

Honōka stops straining to sit up.

“So that’s why it’s itchy.”

Yoshino lets out a short laugh. “Yes, you’re still healing, Honōka; that’s why it feels itchy.”

Honōka nods and her eyelids droop. She fights a yawn. Kakashi tucks her arm back into the futon.

“Go back to sleep for now, Honōka. Heal up some more. I’ll wake you up if we gotta run, or anything.”

Her eyebrows scrunch together, and Yoshino sends him an unimpressed look. Honōka just yawns, again.

“You better.”

Kakashi thinks he’ll remember November fourth as the longest day of his life, for as long as he lives.

He’s tired and wired. Not a combination that he likes. Between Honōka’s surgery early, _early,_ in the morning and the sudden mobilization of the Konoha Border Patrol, Kakashi hardly knows what to do with himself.

Yoshino suggests he do a check of the tent’s barrier seal and a perimeter check. It might make him feel better, maybe ease his nerves enough to lie down for a quick nap.

He takes her advice and meticulously checks the barrier seal, then walks the perimeter of their tent in alternating dimensions. There’s no one around, so he pulls his mask down to get a clearer scent. The tightness in his chest eases for a moment.

Everything seems good, but Kakashi’s gut instinct is still telling him that something is _wrong._ He pulls up his mask and walks the perimeter, again.

On his third pass, he spots Kaito, the chūnin Honōka humiliated. He’s also the only person who made it back from the Tsuchikage’s initial attack on Kusa. One hundred and forty-nine Konoha-nin died in the attack—but Kakashi doesn’t resent Kaito for surviving. He had to survive to bring back the information—it was his duty.

He’s lost weight, looks pale—sick, even. _Wrong,_ his mind whispers. 

Kakashi’s heart pounds in his throat.

“Yo, Kaito. Need help with something?”

Kaito’s throat bobs and he smiles, crookedly. Kakashi feels a weak current of electricity shoot down his spine.

“I was just looking for you, actually. It’s weird; I swore your tent was somewhere over here, but I can’t find it. Do you think you could show me the way? I wanted to show Marimo—Honōka—something neat.”

Kakashi’s not buying it—he’d have to be an idiot to fall for it, and that’s an insult to idiots (and Obito). He doesn’t move, calmly molding chakra for either a shunshin or a kawarimi. He hasn’t decided which, yet.

Kaito frowns—a drop of sweat runs down his temple. “I’m running out of time here, Hatake.”

Kakashi scoffs. “You got an expiration date, or something?”

Kaito laughs and his voice breaks. “Kind of.” He leans against one of the pillars with the camouflage seals on it and unzips his jacket.

 _Not good!_ Kakashi thinks. He’s pretty sure his skin isn’t supposed to be cracking open like some fucked up clay model fresh out of the kiln, pulsing with a glowing white flame from the inside out.

“See you on the other side, Hatake. No hard feelings, yeah?”

Kakashi turns and flickers away. 

The heat from the explosion still singes his hair and the shock wave interrupts his shunshin, sending him skidding across the ground. He rolls, and a spatter of near boiling viscera hits his arm and face.

It’s hot enough to burn, and the smell reminds him of the time he tried to roast a rabbit without gutting it first. He’d been so proud he caught it, his first ever successful hunt, and he’d wanted to cook it for his Otō-san to show him how he could look after himself, even when he was gone away on missions. Otō-san had laughed until he cried and then hugged him until his tears dried. 

Kakashi’s still not sure if his father had been genuinely amused, or afraid of what the world was forcing his child to become. 

He wipes the gore off his face and shakes the rest off his arm. 

The post with one of the anchor seals for the camp’s camouflage is in splinters, the seal itself burned to ash. He can’t see the barrier from inside like someone with a Sharingan or Byakugan could, but he knows enough about seals to realize that the entire thing must be down. Kakashi also knows enough about Iwa’s infamous Bakuha Butai, the Explosion Corps, to recognize their handy work.

Kakashi takes a deep breath and stands up. He has to get to Honōka. Iwa knows where their camp is now, and they’ll make damn well sure to wipe it off the map. They’ll press any advantage they can, and leveling the playing field by destroying the border patrol’s supply hub is exactly the kind of thing they would do.

He needs to move fast—he can hope Iwa is too preoccupied with the ongoing battle to notice their camp's defenses going down, but he wouldn't bet on it. The timing is too perfect.


	61. “I have a plan.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “One of us _alone_ isn’t enough to take them on.”
> 
> “Honōka.”
> 
> “Two of us, _together—”_
> 
> _“Honōka!”_

Kakashi shakes her awake. The twinge in her gut makes itself known, and she rolls onto her stomach to push herself up with her arms rather than attempting it with abdominal strength only.

Kakashi is milling about the tent, grabbing storage scrolls and stray weapons. There’s blood on his face, and on his arm, and on his leg. He tosses her arm guards at her.

“I’m going to gather everyone up.” Yoshino says, urgently. “We need to move the injured shinobi from the field hospital. Are you two fine to get to the southeastern gate together?”

Kakashi nods. “Do you need help moving the injured?”

“I’ll be fine once I round up the rest of the Medical Corps and the other genin and chūnin. Worry about yourself and your teammate in the meantime.”

Yoshino ducks out of the tent and Honōka turns about, confused.

“What’s going on?” She asks. She still feels groggy from the surgery. Blood loss, maybe.

“The camouflage barrier is down. Iwa can see the border camp.”

Not good. They’re so exposed—they built the camp on high ground. Stupid, really.

Honōka expands her sensory-field, and it feels a little wonky from whatever anesthesia they gave her. It’s _maybe_ reliable for one or two kilometers. She doesn’t like that. She can’t even properly sense Sensei and the others—can just vaguely tell they’re not dead, thanks to the deeper connection she’s made with them.

“Honōka!”

Kakashi roughly shakes her shoulder and she nods her head.

“I’m okay.”

“We need to leave, come on.”

She nods again and steps into her shoes. She zips up her winter jacket, a plain gray and wool lined coat, and follows Kakashi out of the tent.

Yoshino, the teenage medic-nin who Honōka thinks might be Minato’s age, is barking orders at the chūnin and other medical-nin carrying stretchers and equipment. The genin that arrived with their jōnin teachers earlier in the month are dutifully carrying what they can.

There’s an explosion on the other side of the camp, near the mess hall—possibly the mess hall itself—and everyone ducks. Yoshino yells at them to move and move they do.

She heads to the back of the procession and weaves the hand seals for a genjutsu. Honōka frowns. She introduced herself as Uchiha Yoshino, but she doesn’t seem to have the Sharingan at all. Are there Uchiha without the Sharingan?

Kakashi tugs on her arm and side-alongs her a couple dozen meters. She’s too similarly sized for Kakashi to effortlessly carry, like Sensei can.

“What about Yoshino-san?” She asks.

Kakashi keeps pulling her along and she glares at him.

_“No.”_

“Honōka—”

“We are _not_ leaving Yoshino-san behind.”

Kakashi represses a snarl, and Honōka hardens her expression. Her anger brings her clarity despite the foggy, lightheaded feeling from the surgery.

“There’s only one of them.” She says. That she can sense within an iffy two kilometer radius, she doesn’t say. There could be more, but she’s betting there’s not. Iwa wouldn’t send more than one capable shinobi to take out a camp of less than fifty (basically) non-combatants.

“We aren't strong enough to take out someone from the Explosion Corps.”

She doesn’t ask him how he knows it’s someone from the Explosion Corps—the explosions are kind of self-explanatory. She also doesn’t refute that either of them, _alone,_ is strong enough to take on a jōnin level shinobi.

“One of us _alone_ isn’t enough to take them on.”

“Honōka.”

“Two of us, _together—”_

_“Honōka!”_

He grabs her arm and she shoves his shoulder. The explosions are getting closer, and Yoshino is still standing guard at the southeastern gate—the last line of defense for the retreating Konoha-nin. Not that it’ll matter—Yoshino is just one chūnin level shinobi with specializations in medical ninjutsu and genjutsu.

Two explosions pop on either side of Yoshino, throwing dust and clods of dirt into the air. Yoshino flinches, but resolutely turns her chin up and looks straight ahead. The Iwa-nin is taunting her. He’s within Yoshino’s genjutsu range, but is not falling for it.

“Do we leave our friends behind?”

“Yoshino knows what she’s risking.”

“Kakashi, do we leave our friends behind?”

“…”

“Do we—”

“She’s not my friend! _You’re_ my friend, Honōka…!” 

You’re the only one that matters, he doesn’t say. She feels it.

“I don’t leave my friends behind.”

She flickers within two hundred meters of the Iwa-nin and _looks._

Kakashi flickers after Honōka and reaches out to grab her arm, but freezes midway. The cores of her eyes are glowing like red hot metal, and the outer ring burns like blue flames.

The Iwa-nin’s nexus is strange, a combination of dust and sparks that ignite the warped ring of his lower dantian.

She dives in, despite the unsettling feeling his nexus and liminal space instills in her.

She thinks, if Kakashi won’t help her, she’ll just have to end the battle on her own terms. And this man, this Iwa-nin, he’s an enemy—a real cruel cat who would taunt someone for attempting to protect the young and the wounded.

There’s a short lag between her entering the enemy nin’s liminal space and her feet touching down in the flooded space. She swears. Her feet stick to the dark surface and slowly sink into it.

Is this a trap, like Inoichi’s mirror maze? She's not sure and struggles to escape, causing her to sink faster.

Honōka reaches for the warped nexus and wills herself out—when that doesn’t work, she exerts her will and _pulls._

The man appears and laughs. Honōka freezes. That is _not_ what she meant to do.

“I thought the ponytail bitch was the one with them eyes—she had that Uchiha look about her. But it’s some snot-nosed brat instead.” His voice is rough and his speech is crude. Honōka hunches her shoulders in and tries willing herself back into her own body again. Nothing works.

He walks across the tar-like surface, unhindered by the substance that is dragging her under. It’s solid under his feet, unyielding in the slightest.

The Iwa-nin is a stocky man with curly white hair and a thick salt and pepper beard. If he were a few kilos heavier, Honōka thinks he might look a bit like Santa Claus—if not for the cruel glint in his steel-gray eyes.

He bends and grabs her chin, twisting her face this way and that way. His expression darkens.

“These ain’t them Uchiha eyes.”

She squeezes her eyes shut and he thumbs her lid up. It doesn’t hurt, but it still feels gross.

“It’s not them Byakugan eyes either.”

Honōka struggles again, trying to pull herself up by using the man as leverage. He backhands her, and while it doesn’t hurt, it still sends a jolt of shock through her body. Her actual body. She tries to follow the feeling back but is too bogged down by the black gunk. 

“This is something new, innit?” His fingers tighten on her chin. “Two dōjutsu ain’t good enough for the rotten Leaf? They gotta breed up some new dōjutsu to brag about? Pathetic.”

He pulls and her neck protests, but one arm comes free from the muck. She grabs onto his arm, straining to kick her legs out.

“Ol’Daruma—” his name, probably, “should bring you back to Iwa. You look like you might be a pretty thing in a couple years.”

Raw anger scorches the back of her throat and she wrenches her jaw free, snapping at his fingers with her little sharp teeth. He laughs at her, and she spits in his eyes.

He throws her down and furiously rubs his eyes. “Fuck, that stings!”

Modified bubble blowing jutsu, learned and experienced first hand from Obito—jutsu _do_ work inside liminal spaces. Good to know.

She claws her way out of the oily tar, ready to jump for the nexus point, and then the sicko steps on her head.

Her mouth and nose hit the surface and she gags.

It’s a massacre. Daruma’s lip twitches, his mustache tickles his nose, and he lets out a great sneeze. A pillar of glorified salt crumbles next to him.

“Damn you, you old coot. You didn’t leave nothing for me to have fun with.”

Ōnoki floats past Daruma at eye level, shooting him a disgusted look. Daruma grins back, waving at Ōnoki’s back as he passes.

“Move out!” Ōnoki shouts.

Daruma rolls his eyes. It’s dead quiet on these godforsaken plains. The old bastard doesn’t need to bawl his little lungs out to be heard.

He kicks a body shaped lump in the piles and piles of disintegrated bodies and broken down earth. It whimpers.

“Oi! Gramps, you missed one!”

“Put it out of its misery then, Daruma.”

He picks up the kid by his ash bleached hair and gives him a little shake. Clods of dust and dirt fall loose, and a spot of bright red creeps down his pasty white face.

“Oh, I got a better idea.” He shakes the boy again and he makes the sweetest little moan. Daruma loves it when they try their hardest to not make a sound. “I’m gonna break his legs and make him crawl on his knees all the way home to Konoha.”

Tears streak the dust caked on his face, likely the remains of whichever fucker was clever enough to hide the kid in the mounds of ash and dust.

“Teruka.” Ōnoki calls. “Put the child out of its misery for Daruma. He seems to have forgotten we do not play with our opponents on the battlefield.”

Teruka, a beast of a woman, lumbers towards him.

“Alright, alright! I got a _better_ idea, anyway. I’ll carve the Curse of Immolation on him and send him back to whatever hellhole Konoha’s squatting in.”

Ōnoki’s long white mustache twitches. Daruma combs his free hand through his own beard.

“It’s a good idea, innit? Blow the top off whatever rock they’re hiding under—find that goddamn sensor that keeps finding us before we can find ‘em back; ransack their supplies and piss on their reputation?”

Ōnoki rolls his eyes. “Do it.” He grunts and begins floating away again. “Get Noaki to seal its memories.”

“Yes, sir… ya old coot.”

Daruma whistles sharply and Noaki saunters over.

“Think you can do that thing where he remembers what happened in his dreams but can’t speak o’ it? That whatchamacallit jutsu?”

"Musei Akumu no Jutsu?" Naoki smirks. “I would love to.”

Daruma laughs and drops the kid on the ground. Kaito tries to crawl away on his hands and knees, but Daruma steps on his knee. She feels it pop.

Honōka gasps for air. Daruma’s foot presses down on her head again.

Kaito screams as Daruma draws his sparking finger tip over the thin flesh on his ribs and collarbone. Honōka can smell the flesh burning, and Daruma stuffs a wad of bandages into his mouth.

“Will you shut up! I’m trying to concentrate here!”

Honōka yanks her head out of the putrid black tar and her hand morphs into a tantō blade. She stabs it into Daruma’s thigh, and he howls from the pain.

She rips herself away from Daruma’s foul liminal space and pants. Kakashi’s hand closes around her wrist and she lets him ground her in reality. She feels _dirty._

Daruma is still howling in pain, clutching his uninjured thigh.

“What did you do?!” Kakashi whispers—awed.

“Nothing he didn’t deserve.”

“Come out, you little bitch! I’m gonna rip those fucking eyes out of your head!”

Yoshino switches tactics then. She weaves the hand seals for the great fireball technique and launches several smaller fireballs consecutively. They aim true, and Daruma has to jump and dodge.

“Get out of here!” Yoshino shouts. 

Daruma touches down and launches himself forward. He lands right next to Yoshino, who braces herself for the coming strike, and swats her away, easily as swatting a fly.

Yoshino sails through the air until she brings up against a tree trunk. She doesn’t get up, but Honōka is reassured she lives, thanks to her sensor abilities and dōjutsu. She bites her lip and Kakashi’s grip on her wrist tightens.

“He’s cruel,” she whispers. “And arrogant. He’s not as strong as Minato or Sensei, and the Tsuchikage doesn’t like him.” Honōka thinks he’s probably the weakest member of the Explosion Corps if Ōnoki sent him here instead of using him in the main battle.

He’s also looking for them—left, right, behind and forward, up, then down. He’s not a sensor type—doesn’t have an enhanced sense of smell, or hearing. She taps her foot. No reaction. No earth sense either. 

Kakashi sees what she sees and takes out two kunai. He throws both, using the second one to manipulate the trajectory of the first. Daruma lifts his hand, palm glowing, and blows the kunai away with an explosion.

“Little fucker! That ain’t gonna work on me, dumbass!”

He doesn’t move from the flattened and smoldering wreckage of the camp he’s created, but he does turn in the direction the kunai came from.

“We can do this.” She tells Kakashi. 

He shoots her a dubious look. He’s thinking the experience of a shinobi Daruma’s age is more than they can hope to challenge.

“People don’t grow up—they get older.” She reminds him. “Age isn’t equal to wisdom and experience isn’t equal to intelligence. This man has neither. We can win.”

Kakashi nods. “I have a plan.”


	62. just killed a man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In another lifetime she threw playing cards at the cherry tree in the backyard with her grandfather, seeing who could knock the most cherries down. In this lifetime, she curls the card into the palm of her hand and snaps it out, faster than she ever could have as Tomoe.

“He thinks it’s just you here.” Kakashi says. “We need him to keep thinking that.”

She nods, thinking he means she’ll have to confront the Iwa-nin while he pulls strings from behind the scenes. Kakashi then weaves the seals for a regular Henge no Jutsu and transforms into her. 

Right. That makes a lot more sense.

Daruma launches another barrage of explosions and they both duck. Honōka glances at Yoshino, unconscious, and slumped over at the base of a tree. She’s hidden from sight, but close enough to get caught in the crossfire if they don’t move her.

“Come out, you little rat, or I’ll blow this place sky high!”

He kind of already has, but she supposes there probably is some salvageable equipment in the mess he’s created. 

“If he doesn’t see one of us soon, he’ll think you’ve run away and go after the medic-nin and the wounded. I’ll distract him for a couple seconds and hide again. You need to drag Yoshino at least fifty meters back while I do.”

“Okay. On three?” She asks.

Kakashi nods. “Three.”

He jumps out and feints charging at Daruma. She swears and flickers to Yoshino’s side. _That’s not how ‘on the count of three’ works!_ She’ll complain at him later though—she has to move Yoshino first.

Honōka tries to lift her over one shoulder—something she can manage with a bit of chakra and some elbow grease—but freezes mid lift. Her lower abdominal muscles protest and she takes a deep breath.

She transformed Obito into herself once, using her own transformation method on him…can she…?

She transforms Yoshino into Madara. Success!

She carries Yoshino as Madara as far away as she can without losing sight of Kakashi’s nexus. Two hundred meters really isn’t far enough away, considering they’re fighting a shinobi whose main attack is making things explode, but it’s better than the fifty meters minimum Kakashi asked for.

Honōka puts Yoshino as Madara down on her side. When she lets go, Yoshino reassumes her natural appearance and Honōka lets out a relieved breath. When she transformed Obito, she only needed to redesign his outward appearance. With Yoshino, she had to move most of her physical weight into Yoshino’s liminal space. Honōka was worried it might get stuck there, like a certain playing card.

Kakashi signals her. He’s hiding again. Daruma sets off an ear rattling explosion, but it’s in the opposite direction of Kakashi’s hiding place.

She flickers back to his side.

“Yoshino?” He asks.

“I moved her two hundred meters southeast of here.”

Kakashi nods.

“Our next step is immobilizing him. Otherwise, we won’t be able to land a killing blow.”

She’s glad Kakashi tossed her arm guards at her earlier.

“I never did show you how to snare a big fat rabbit, did I?”

Kakashi shoots her a doubtful look.

“You can actually use ninja wire?”

She scowls. She’s not terrible with all ninja tools—just most. “I snared Sensei’s shadow clone once. I think it intentionally walked into the trap—” probably curious if her trap would even work, “but Sensei _did_ pat me on the head afterward. So it was a good trap.”

Kakashi considers.

“Can you set it up here without the Iwa-nin noticing?”

“You’ll need to distract him again while I do. I can set most of it underground and out of sight, but not all of it. We’ll also need to lead him between two sturdy trees.”

“I don’t want to fight this guy in the trees. Too many blind spots and his jutsu has a wide area of effect…what about between the wooden posts in camp? There’s still a few standing.”

“How far apart are they?”

“Five to six meters.”

“It’ll work.” She’ll make it work.

“On three?” Kakashi says and she tenses. “Three.”

She dives underground and feels the ground shake all around her. The Iwa-nin is getting more and more pissed off with Kakashi’s peek-a-boo act.

She gets behind them and pops her head out. Kakashi is keeping Daruma busy with a constant assault of shuriken shadow clones, a technique that Sensei taught him.

Honōka spots the pillars and sinks underground again, forcing her way over to them. She lays her wires below the surface, blind, and anchors them to the pillars above ground, just her fingers showing above the dirt. Then she twists the wire and pushes dirt a few centimeters up the sides of the pillars to hide the already nearly invisible wire.

Kakashi uses a replacement jutsu and flickers away, signaling her to regroup again. She drops a couple meters deeper and worms her way back to him, flinching at every explosion that rocks the surrounding earth. Kakashi has to keep backing farther away.

“Did you set up the trap?” He pants.

She nods. “Between the pillars at his eleven o’clock.”

“It’ll definitely immobilize him?” He asks.

“It’ll sever his calcaneal tendon—or at least rip into it.”

“…He could have plate armor on his legs.”

“He could,” she agrees. “But most armor doesn’t fully cover the ankle or heel. And I tweaked the wire—it should spring just above the top of his foot.”

Kakashi takes a deep breath and holds it. He pushes his hair, _her hair,_ back and bounces on the balls of his feet. He twirls a kunai into his palm and lets out his held breath.

“On three?” She asks.

He nods.

“One, two… Three!”

Kakashi charges forward. He stays low to the ground and uses no more ninjutsu—the Shuriken Kage Bunshin no Jutsu he used earlier is less chakra intensive than the pure Kage Bunshin no Jutsu, but it’s still up there. Now he’s conserving his chakra for kawarimi and shunshin only, or other evasive maneuvers.

She watches, just out of sight, chewing her bottom lip. She wants to be out there with him, but the fact is she’s slower than Kakashi even when she doesn’t have a questionably healed incision in her abdominal wall. Her shunshin might be faster, but the fine-tuning is hit-or-miss thanks to her monocular vision and severely lacking depth perception.

Kakashi suddenly trips and a stray punch grazes him, sending him airborne. Honōka almost leaps out, but realizes the momentum is all wrong…exaggerated. He lands just on the other side of her trap and remains on the ground, clutching his uninjured cheek.

Daruma stomps towards him, irritation melting away in favor of some sort of sick satisfaction.

“You youngins are always faster than Ol’Daruma.” He says. “Quicker to tire and roll over too. Me though—I could do this all day.”

Step.

The pressure triggers the tripwire and the springy ninja wire retracts into its buried coil box, drawing tight around the two wooden beams at exactly Daruma’s ankle height. The friction on the wood makes smoke and then draws taunt with a mental twang.

Daruma’s knees hit the ground and he makes a garbled kind of choking sound.

Kakashi jumps on him, driving his kunai into the Iwa-nin’s neck.

Or he tries to.

Daruma raises his arm, now coated in stone after a scarce second of molding chakra, and Kakashi’s kunai bounces off his solid forearm. Daruma follows through on the swing and Kakashi is batted away, ricocheting off the wooden post behind him.

Daruma forms a hammer with his fist and Honōka flickers to Kakashi. She dives on top of him, covering his body with hers and wills them to drop through the ground—fast. She feels the stone fist smash through the ground behind her and sees Daruma’s nexus following them through the ground at a sluggish pace. 

He’s literally trying to dig after them with his stone hardened arms and chakra enhanced strength. It’s terrifying.

She shoulders her way through the toughest earth she can find, putting distance between them and the Iwa-nin as fast as she can. He’s in pain from the wire snare, but that isn’t stopping him from blowing up the surroundings with increasingly powerful explosions.

She heads up a safe distance away.

Kakashi’s henge is still active, so he hasn’t lost consciousness from the blow, but it’s a near thing. He’s very disoriented. 

“Kakashi, are you okay?” She can feel his pain radiating from his chest and ribs, but she doesn’t know if it’s from a bruise, a cracked rib, or worse. 

He leans over and blood dribbles out of his mouth. She panics, but he just spits out a tooth and shakes his head, pushing his (her) hair out of his face, again.

An explosion shakes the surrounding trees, and they both squat a little lower. Daruma screams for them to come out.

“You fucking rats! When Ol’Daruma finds you, he’s gonna hang you up by your intestines and leave you for the crows to peck apart!”

“He sounds pissed off.” Kakashi says, with his voice, not hers. He clears his throat and corrects it. “Do you have a plan B?”

“Headhunter technique.” She says. It’s a collaborative technique they came up with together. Well, Kakashi came up with it on his own and she decided it worked better as a two person move.

“You’re crazy.” He says.

They look at each other and shrug. They're both crazy. Another explosion deafens them, this one so close they can feel the heat in the air from the shock wave.

“We’re probably going to die, anyway.” Kakashi sighs.

“I’d tell you it’s not so bad, but that would be me lying.”

“Rock-paper-scissors?” He suggests.

“Toad-slug-snake.” She counters.

Kakashi rolls his eyes, but makes the hand signs. Thumb for toad, pinkie for slug, index finger for snake. He picks toad on the last shake and she choses snake. She wins.

“Who’s on burial and who’s on decapitation?”

“You do burial and I’ll do decapitation.” She decides.

“…You’re sure?”

“I’m not strong enough to drag him under.” She admits. “But I _can_ cut his throat.”

“You won’t drop your kunai mid swing?”

She morphs her hand into a blade and back again.

“Right. On three?”

Daruma breaks through the tree line.

“Found you, you little bastards!”

They separate. Kakashi goes east and she goes west, and Daruma goes after her, the slower target. Luckily for her, she doesn’t have to worry about him sneaking up on her in the trees—she can see his nexus even when he’s behind her, through trees and other obstacles.

She feels less lucky when he puts one hand to a tree trunk and explodes it in her direction, sending flaming chips and splinters of shrapnel her way.

Kakashi was right, like usual. Fighting this guy in the trees was a bad idea. She heads for the border camp clearing.

“Don’t!” Kakashi shouts. “Land mines!”

She’s not sure how he can tell, but guesses it has something to do with his sense of smell. She back pedals and nearly runs into Daruma, but manage to slip under foot. His ankle is bleeding.

He switches targets rather than turning and charging after her again. She needs to get him to stop moving, somehow.

“Hey, Daruma! Looks like you need Teruka’s help to take care of a couple kids!”

He turns his sights back on her, grinning manically. 

“So you’re the real one, huh?” He licks his lips. "I'm gonna have fun peeling your little fingernails off."

“Do you think Ōnoki sent you because he thought this was a job even an idiot like you couldn’t screw up? Or is it because he can’t stand looking at your crusty ass face?”

He laughs, unaffected.

“Your beard looks like bird shit!” Kakashi shouts.

Daruma's eye twitches.

“Ōnoki-sama’s beard is a hundred times better than yours, you faker!”

He snarls and clomps after her. Her trap didn’t cut through his entire calcaneal tendon, but it did take a piece out. He’s slowing down.

Kakashi takes a running leap at Daruma, diving for his ankles. He’s going to use her move, Doton: Tōkatsuchi no Jutsu, instead of Sensei’s hiding like a mole technique! She doesn’t know when he learned it—he didn’t even ask her to teach it to him.

He swings into the ground and pulls one of Daruma’s ankles under. The Iwa-nin yanks it out and Kakashi resurfaces enough for Daruma to aim a near miss kick at his face. She grabs Kakashi’s lucky kunai out of her back tool pouch and throws.

Honōka is ready to cheer when it flies true, only to clunk uselessly off of Daruma’s Iwa hitai-ate.

“Bullseye!” Daruma laughs. “Where are you even aiming, dumbass?”

She’s so _mad_ she just _reaches_ for the first thing she thinks she can actually hit him with. It’s not her shuriken, or kunai, or the one senbon she keeps in the sole of her left shoe.

It’s the Queen of Spades that appears between her two fingers.

In another lifetime she threw playing cards at the cherry tree in the backyard with her grandfather, seeing who could knock the most cherries down. In this lifetime, she curls the card into the palm of her hand and snaps it out, faster than she ever could have as Tomoe.

The edge of the card digs into his eye and he staggers back, hand flying to the injury. He screams in pain as he knocks the card loose.

Kakashi pulls with all his might and Daruma sinks down to his chest and shoulders, writhing in pain from her spectacular hit-or-miss aim. He curses, neck muscles bulging as he tries to escape the vice grip of the surrounding earth. Blood runs down his cheek from where the card split his eyelid and lodged in his cornea.

She pounces, and her right arm becomes a blade.

Daruma opens his mouth to spew more vile curses at her, even as fear fills his one bloodshot eye.

Honōka rams the tip of her blade arm through the back of his throat, wedging the edge between the atlas and axis vertebrae, separating his head from his spine. Technically, she thinks, that counts as a decapitation.

She twists and pulls, feeling bone scrape on the sensate pseudo steel of her transformed arm. She steps away, but there’s very little blood spray to avoid. Most of it sprays the roof of the Iwa-nin's mouth, dripping off his teeth and pouring down his chin and slack jaw.

Her ears ring from the sudden silence left in the wake of Daruma’s explosive kekkei genkai and vitriol cursing. The wind blows, bitingly cold, and she shivers. She just killed a man.

She just killed a man and all she feels is relief.


	63. now until nightfall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He’s not sure what he should tell her to reassure her that what she’s feeling is normal for them, shinobi, and shrugs.
> 
> “I wouldn’t worry about it. This guy seemed like an actual piece of shit. The world’s a better place without him.”

Kakashi feels ‘Ol’Daruma’ die; frantically struggling to escape one moment and limp the next. He lets go of the Iwa-nin’s ankles, his left hand bloody from the gash on the back of the man’s heel, and climbs out of the ground.

Honōka’s Tōkatsuchi no Jutsu really is superior to the better known Moguragakure no Jutsu. It’s faster, for one, and less encumbering. He doesn’t think they could have pulled off the headhunter technique without it.

Ah, he thinks, blinking at the sudden change from total darkness to daytime brightness. They didn’t _quite_ pull off his Doton: Shinjū Zanshu no Jutsu. The Iwa-nin’s head is still attached to his neck, and it isn’t obvious to Kakashi where the blood is coming from, besides the deep vertical slash on his eyelid. 

He wonders if he should be concerned that she went for the left eye—the same eye she’s blind in. Minato told him about injury complexes, and he really doesn’t want Honōka developing a reputation for targeting eyes. That’s just asking to be put in the Bingo Book.

He doesn’t investigate the corpse any further, but he’s fairly certain she stabbed the Iwa-nin through the back of his throat. Gross.

Honōka has wandered over to a patch of frosty moss at the base of a tree and is wiping her blade arm off in slow sweeps with a handful of it. It takes her several tries to be satisfied enough to revert to her hand.

“Are you okay?” He asks.

“…I’m fine.”

He knows Honōka well enough by now that he can tell which tone of voice she uses for a genuine ‘I’m fine’. That one was not it, and she knows _he_ knows.

“When I was Tomoe, and living where I did, people didn’t kill each other. There were murders and accidents, but no one had to kill anybody to survive. In fact, from a very young age, Tomoe was taught it was wrong to hurt others under any circumstances.”

Kakashi frowns. He lets go of his transformation so he can hide his expression behind his mask again. He doesn’t like people being able to _see_ him… _make expressions_ —regardless of who’s face he’s making them with.

“That sounds…good?” Kakashi can’t imagine Tomoe's world at all.

Honōka laughs. “It sounds strange to you, doesn’t it?”

Of course it does. All his life he’s been taught to be strong, and to obey the shinobi rules. He thinks he probably knew what death was before he knew what life was; and how to hold a kunai almost before he could brush his teeth on his own. These things aren’t strange to him—it’s just the way most shinobi live. 

He knew it was different for Honōka, right from the start—because she started life off as a civilian—but he thought she would grow out of it, eventually. He knows now that she experienced more than just five years of civilian life. And, violent as those first five years were, she spent the fifteen years before living in relative paradise, by comparison. 

It makes sense to him now, that Honōka is _different._

“Tomoe would feel something if she killed a man.” Honōka says. “I…I’m not sure I feel anything. Is that normal?”

Kakashi can sometimes forget (put aside) that Honōka is technically older, _a lot_ older, than he is. And then sometimes she asks questions he doesn’t know how to respond to or says things that are very…mature? Thoughtful? He’s not sure what it is, but it reminds him she has lived before and is older—possibly more delicate—than he is. 

Kakashi thinks people become _fragile_ the older they get—or maybe it’s not the passage of time and growing older at all, but the things they experience. And Honōka has experienced more cruelty, more pain, than most people he knows. He also can say with near certainty that she’s the only person he knows who has experienced death, firsthand.

He’s not sure what he should tell her to reassure her that what she’s feeling is normal for them, shinobi, and shrugs.

“I wouldn’t worry about it. This guy seemed like an actual piece of shit. The world’s a better place without him.”

Honōka’s eyes widen and her lip twitches. She’s trying hard not to smile, something Orochimaru-sensei is much better at.

“Kakashi, I think we might be terrible people.” She giggles. “But I’m still glad he’s dead.”

He nods. 

“We should get Yoshino and meet up with the rest of the medical-nin.” He says. “I think I cracked a couple ribs.”

Yoshino is conscious but dazed when they collect her. Conscious enough to be glad he and Honōka are not dead, but dazed enough to not fully realize (or appreciate) that Honōka transformed her into a cat. She’s just flexing her (Madara’s) paw in front of her feline face, captivated by the retractable claws.

They meet up with the medical-nin and chūnin sensor-nin, who have decided to remain in the relative vicinity of the battle. They sent the genin back to Konoha with the non-critically injured—those that were strong enough to retreat but not strong enough to stay and fight. 

That means the medic-nin aren’t happy to see them, or Yoshino, but a quick check after restoring Yoshino to her natural form reveals she’s bearably concussed. A few moments of healing with medical ninjutsu sees Yoshino back to her tetchy self.

“Why a male cat, though?” She complains, rubbing the still tender lump on the back of her head. “Why not a female cat—or a puppy?”

“Yeah, Honōka—why not a puppy?” He jokes. She sticks her tongue out at him.

“I’ll try a snake next time. Sounds like more fun.”

“Can you guys shut up? We’re trying to concentrate here.” One sensor-nin snaps. 

“Honōka-kun, a little help, maybe?” Another asks.

She shrugs and goes to sit with them. Kakashi gives them a cursory scan, but Honōka has worked with all these sensor-nin before and has most likely done her own tests on them.

“My sensory-field is a bit wonky right now,” she says. “Don’t expect me to use Shōkyo.”

“Wonky?” He asks. She didn’t tell him that. “How wonky?”

She gestures. So-so, or half-and-half. He thinks that’s probably not good. How far can she sense half impaired?

“It’s better than it was earlier.” She says.

That’s apparently good enough for the other sensor-nin.

“Do you need a heading?” One asks.

She shakes her head.

“Sensei’s being _loud.”_

They all nod in agreement, and Kakashi’s glad he’s not a born sensor. Sensor types are weird.

One of the medic-nin beckons him over.

“Yo, Kakashi-kun. You’re favoring your side, yeah?”

He nods. Kakashi is familiar with this medic-nin. He’s the guy that healed his ruptured eardrums a while back. Fujihara Tsubasa.

“I’ll fix that up and then you can help me set up some tents. Also, you wouldn’t know any of Minato’s fancy barrier seals?”

“…” He does, but it’s Minato’s. He’s not sure if he’s allowed to use it or not.

“Minato wouldn’t care if you did,” Honōka points out. “He’d be happy if it means we stay out of sight.”

“Right.” 

He’s glad he took the storage scrolls. He has lots of blank chakra infused paper and brushes. Unfortunately, in his haste to seal the supplies, he seems to have exploded the bottled ink. Minato will _not_ be happy when he finds out. It’s expensive.

“Does anyone have chakra infused ink?”

A few head shakes.

“Just use blood.” Honōka responds. “It’s a more powerful conduit, anyway.”

Several people make faces. It’s archaic (and considered barbaric, even for shinobi) but it gets the job done. Way cheaper, too.

“What? You want a barrier seal, don’t you?” She challenges them. “Orochimaru-sama says dire situations call for dire solutions.”

Uncomfortable weight shifting and the smell of nervous sweat. He wishes she wouldn’t do that—she knows exactly when dropping Sensei’s name will get the strongest reaction. She also knows exactly how to use it to get what she wants.

“She’s right…”

“How much do you need, Kakashi-kun?” Tsubasa asks.

Kakashi finds an empty drinking mug amongst the scattered supplies.

“About a quarter full.” He says, holding it out.

There are many relieved sighs. Someone takes the mug from him.

“Alright, let me heal your rib first, and then you can get started on the barrier.” Tsubasa says.

He nods, and then a thought occurs to him that makes him swear.

“Honōka! When that dickhead bombed the camp he destroyed the seal on our tent. Fugaku’s and Inoichi’s keys will have disappeared.” They already know something happened to the camp.

“Oh.” Honōka says. “That explains Sensei’s loudness.” She pauses. “Probably get the barrier seal set up real soon?”

Kakashi nods. He’s glad it’s not just him that’s afraid of the extremes a desperate and furious Orochimaru might go to, to avenge them.

“What’s the battle looking like right now?” He asks, distracting himself from the prickly pain of his ribs being healed.

“Sensei and Minato are keeping Ōnoki busy, so our losses are pretty minimal. The rest of the battlefield seems scattered by smaller pockets of fighting and deadlocked in terms of skill. Fugaku’s keeping the Explosion Corps busy, either on his own or with Inoshikachō. It’s hard for me to tell anything else without fine tuning with Shōkyo or moving within twenty kilometers of the battle.”

“…How close are we to the battle?”

“About twenty-five kilometers.”

That’s close.

“Why can’t you use Shōkyo?” He asks.

“Headache. Anesthesia doesn’t agree with me.”

“You had an operation recently?” Someone pipes up.

“She had a spinal anesthesia injected between L3 and L4 at oh-five-oh-five and an incision to the lower abdomen to remove a kikaichū colony living on the surface of the small intestines.” Yoshino clinically explains.

“Patient confidentiality?” Honōka asks, pouting. Yoshino rolls her eyes at her. Kakashi’s not sure what patient confidentiality is supposed to be.

“She fought like that?!” Tsubasa yells, right in his ear. “Can someone please do a postoperative examination on Honōka-kun?”

Honōka looks like a tanuki caught raiding a vegetable garden. Kakashi almost laughs.

“…Right _now?”_

Tsubasa opens his mouth to say yes, but Yoshino cuts him off.

“When a tent gets set up.”

Honōka lets out a breath of relief. He doesn’t blame her. He doesn’t like to be picked at and prodded either, and especially not in front of strangers. 

Tsubasa finishes healing Kakashi’s ribs and stands up quickly, dusting off his knees. 

“Come on, Kakashi-kun. We’ve got tents and seals to set up,” he says, then grumbles more quietly. “Honestly, girls and their sensibilities. We don’t have time for that crap!”

Yoshino shoots Tsubasa a reproachful look. Kakashi’s not getting involved in that argument and just grabs a bundled up tent and starts setting it up. There are several injured chūnin and jōnin with them that look like they could benefit from having a tent over their heads. The sun already passed its zenith, and it’s only going to get colder from now until nightfall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took my first day off from posting yesterday. I spent it drooling over videos on fountain pens and daydreaming. I now have two new (cheap) fountain pens and some colored inks coming soon. Very excited!!


	64. “It must be the dimples.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The injured we have are stable, only one person needs to stay here. I’d recommend Honōka-kun or Kakashi-kun, but Honōka-kun’s interpersonal transformation technique may come in handy if we have to move someone larger or in precarious shape. And, where Honōka-kun goes, Kakashi-kun goes too. Right, Kakashi-kun?”

Night brings a lull to the fighting. Honōka uses the opportunity to focus on Sensei and get a better read on his current mood.

…It’s not great—but it _is_ better than earlier. Re-establishing Minato’s privacy barrier and the subsequent reappearance of Fugaku’s and Inoichi’s keys at least reassured him (and the others) that she and Kakashi are not dead. Which means he’s no longer on the precipice of self-destruction—which is definitely a good thing. 

She wishes she could do that telepathy jutsu Inoichi talks about. He refuses to teach her, because it’s clan specific—secret—a hiden jutsu. She’s jealous.

But she can contact them in tap code! It requires her to use Shōkyo, but she’s mostly over her headache and fogginess from earlier.

She focuses on bringing her sensory-field in as close as possible to avoid the Iwa sensor-nin being able to eavesdrop and sends out a tentative message.

_‘KBP camp raided. Camp sabotaged. One chūnin fatality. Everyone else safe.’_

“Your chakra emission range is stupidly unfair.” Kaoru says. “But also dead convenient. Morale should increase with that message.”

The other sensors all nod as they wait for a response from the battlefield. 

It’s easier for them to listen to the camped army from this distance than it is for the camp to listen to them, because any sensor-nin that attempts to expand their sensory-field will just as likely be heard by the nearby Iwa-nin.

Her message spreads, and the relief is palpable. A lot of the Konoha-nin were concerned for the safety of their injured and less combat ready friends and students. Honōka thinks it’s nice to know they care so much.

And now that they realize they’re being watched by their allies, they have some requests.

From the rear, a jōnin sensor-nin requests the evacuation of some injured shinobi. Another inquires about supplies.

She doesn’t know how she should respond so she looks to Yoshino and the other senior chūnin rank medic-nin, Tsubasa. There are a couple jōnin with them but, considering they’re all unconscious, they don’t get an opinion on how they carry out operations.

“What’s our window of opportunity?” Tsubasa asks the sensor-nin. “How long until the fighting resumes?”

“A couple hours. It’ll probably pick up again just before dawn.”

“How many do we need to move? Ask them to give us the number of critical but nonlethal wounds only. We’ll do what we can for those who may be fatally injured, but we don’t have the supplies to prioritize shinobi who aren’t guaranteed to survive.” Tsubasa takes a deep breath, feeling a twinge of sadness. “Can you relay that message, Honōka-kun?”

She nods, relays the message, and waits.

It doesn’t take long to get the numbers. Yoshino hisses. It’s worse than they thought, but is actually unsurprising, considering they’re dealing with enemy-nin who favor explosions and the crushing force of Doton jutsu.

Tsubasa considers.

“We’ll need everyone here to help.” He says. “We’ll evacuate who we can, but our priority is healing minor wounds and getting as many shinobi back on the field as possible. Iwa doesn’t have a skilled Medical Corps—our actions tonight could be what wins us this battle.”

Everyone nods.

“The injured we have are stable, only one person needs to stay here. I’d recommend Honōka-kun or Kakashi-kun, but Honōka-kun’s interpersonal transformation technique may come in handy if we have to move someone larger or in precarious shape. And, where Honōka-kun goes, Kakashi-kun goes too. Right, Kakashi-kun?”

Several people chuckle. Kakashi’s eyes narrow, but he’s secretly blushing under his mask.

Kaoru raises their hand. “I can stay behind. I don’t know medical ninjutsu and I’m not particularly strong.”

Tsubasa nods.

“Alright. Grab everything that can be spared and move out!”

The half hour it takes for them to meet up with the rear battleground is the longest half hour of her life. Maybe.

She was hoping Sensei would come to the rear when he heard they were arriving with supplies, but he’s determined to stay at the front.

Tsubasa and Yoshino work on setting up a triage station, and the sensor-nin set up stretchers for those with severe but nonlethal wounds. Those who aren’t expected to make it are laid in a neat row. She swallows the lump in her throat.

“Kakashi—”

He sighs.

“Orochimaru-sensei will yell at you if you go marching up to him. It’s still dangerous here, Honōka.”

“I know. I just want to get close enough to—” she gestures to her eyes. “Two hundred meters. That should be fine, right?”

Kakashi rolls his shoulders. “Hurry up.”

She hugs him and he goes stiff as a board. “I’ll be right back!”

She flickers right to the two hundred meter mark and drops a couple meters underground, just in case. Sensei is literally standing at the front, all by himself. She doesn’t like that. She finds his smoky lilac nexus and dives in.

Honōka is almost reluctant to bring Sensei into his liminal space, considering what happened last time he was here. She glances at the glasslike surface of the lake all around his island, and the one spot where she punched a jagged hole through it. Darkness evaporates out of it. 

She takes a deep breath and focuses on Sensei’s nexus and pulls, gently.

Sensei is suddenly standing next to her. He blinks and then scowls.

“You are—”

She jumps and hugs him around the neck. He grinds his teeth.

“You are so spoiled.” He says, patting her back. “And in trouble. Two hundred meters is _much_ too close.”

He grips her under the arms and pulls her off his neck, setting her down on her feet again. She pouts.

“None of that,” he says, expression stern. “While I do appreciate seeing you in one piece, I did promise Minato that neither you nor Kakashi would have to fight on this stage.”

“We fought an Iwa-nin today—me and Kakashi.”

Sensei freezes.

“I killed him.” She whispers and licks her dry lips. “Kakashi helped. I couldn’t have done it without him, I think.”

He slowly kneels, putting himself at (nearly) her eye level.

“What did I tell you to do if an enemy-nin approached you and Kakashi?”

“…Run away.”

“Were you unable to outrun this enemy-nin you encountered?”

She shakes her head, then nods when his eyes narrow. Technically, if it were just her and Kakashi, they could have outrun Daruma.

“And yet you chose to disobey me.”

He’s _very_ not happy with her. Upset. _Angry._ If there’s one thing Sensei hates more than repeating himself, it’s being deliberately ignored and disobeyed. And he’s disappointed—with her. She hates that.

“You are a child, Honōka.”

“I’m not—”

“Your soul may tell you otherwise,” Sensei says, pointing at her chest, then to her forehead. “And your mind may be in agreement, but your body is that of a child.”

“Sensei—if me and Kakashi didn’t kill him, he would have killed everyone else.”

Sensei pinches her cheeks between his thumb and index finger, applying the slightest pressure to her molars. It’s been a while since he last did that.

“You do not know that.” He lets go, tilting her chin up so that she can’t look away instead. “Furthermore—it should not be your duty to protect older and more experienced shinobi, regardless of your talents and capabilities in comparison to theirs. You are only a genin.”

She bites her lip.

“He would have killed Yoshino-san.”

Sensei sighs. He cups the back of her head and brings her in for a hug.

“You are so obstinate. You remind me of Jiraiya, sometimes, and I do not mean that as a compliment.”

“When you know what the right thing to do is, it’s your job to do it—even when it’s hard and no else wants to.”

Her words are muffled against his chest, but he hears them just fine. Sensei squeezes her a little tighter and sighs, dramatically.

“You sound _just_ like him. Please do not suddenly decide you must travel all the lands writing _terrible_ novels. I will be very cross with you.”

She laughs. Sensei says the oddest things sometimes.

After a long moment, Sensei finally lets go of her and ruffles her hair.

“Go on,” he clears his throat. “Head to the rear—where you are _supposed_ to be, and do _not_ get distracted by talking to Minato or Fugaku, appealing as the idea may sound.”

There’s a warning in his voice—he’ll be very upset with her if she disobeys him, again.

“I won’t, Sensei. I’ll head straight back to Kakashi.”

“Good. Now go.”

She flickers back to Kakashi and pounces on his back. He swears.

“Honōka! Don’t do that!”

She lets go and slips off his back.

“Sorry.”

“Did Orochimaru-sensei yell at you?”

“Sensei doesn’t yell.” Not at her, at least.

Kakashi sizes her up. “You got in trouble, didn’t you?”

She nods. “A little.”

He snorts. “He’s too easy on you.”

Honōka grins, flashing her best smile. Of course he goes easy on her! She's his favorite.

Kakashi rolls his eyes at her. “It must be the dimples.”


	65. hard shutdown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She sifts through the nearby chakra signatures, trying to find the _wrongness_ Kakashi noticed.
> 
> Everything feels normal to her—until she touches on a signature that feels _hot_ —like a light bulb about to burn out.

It’s nearing dawn when Honōka notices Kakashi getting fidgety.

“Kakashi?” She asks.

“…It’s getting light out. We should be heading back.” Before it’s too late, he doesn’t say.

She agrees. She can feel the restlessness coming from both sides of the battlefield; the impatience. However, there’s still a line at the triage station and the chūnin sensor group—who have made multiple trips by this point—are still in the process of securing their last passengers.

Honōka tiptoes over to Yoshino, who is patching up the hand of jōnin with a couple missing fingers. She avoids looking at the stubs after catching a quick glimpse. Her stomach rolls.

“Yoshino-san, we need to move out soon. Iwa’s side is getting restless. They’ll probably attack soon.”

The jōnin she’s healing is understandably startled by her statement.

“Seriously? You’re one of Orochimaru’s kids, right? The sensor? Does our side know that?”

“Uh,” probably not, actually. She restricts her sensor-field to their side of the battlegrounds and taps out the heads up. “Now they do?”

He raises an eyebrow but doesn’t ask what she means—he’s not sensitive enough to pick up on her chakra pulses.

She gets several affirmations from those who can hear her message. The chūnin sensors move faster.

Yoshino clucks her tongue and smacks the jōnin on the shoulder. “Don’t think about your missing fingers—just form the hand seals as usual and you should be good.”

Honōka winces. Is Yoshino encouraging him to cultivate phantom limb syndrome? Sounds…uncomfortable.

“Tsubasa!” Yoshino hollers. “Honōka says we’re running out of time.”

He looks up, squints at the horizon, and nods.

“Alright. Everyone, five minutes, no, two minutes, to finish up and then we’re hauling out of here!”

Several shouted acknowledgments.

She heads back to Kakashi, who stiffly nods at her. He’s still agitated, prickly.

“Honōka—something isn’t right, _here,_ right now. _Wrong.”_

His nose is twitching and his hair is slightly more fluffed up than is usual. He’s sensing something he doesn’t have a name for.

Honōka grabs his hand and gets growled at.

“I’m serious, Honōka—something is _wrong!”_

“Sh.”

Her sensor abilities are great for several things. Long distance viewing of large chakra fluctuations; spotting the nexuses of people and other complex organisms (not bugs!) within two hundred meters; and determining the emotional nuances of individuals and groups.

Those three things are all she needs to determine threats and hostilities. However, she can’t sense genjutsu at all, or any jutsu/fūinjutsu that uses spiritual or yin chakra only. Her five core senses are only average.

However, she has one other sense that continues to baffle Sensei—her sense for electric potential. Which is currently being hindered by Kakashi’s staticky presence.

She takes said staticky chakra signature and syncs it up with hers, forcing it to fade into the background with Shōkyo. Kakashi jerks.

“What the hell—!”

“Kakashi, sh!”

He freezes, eyes darting about uncomfortably. His chakra stops fighting hers. 

She doesn’t know what they’re looking for—something set Kakashi off that wasn’t a smell or his gut instinct.

Kakashi’s natural affinity for lightning— _electricity_ —makes him very sensitive to both the changes in air pressure and the more subtle changes in nearby electromagnetic fields. What he hasn’t realized, Honōka thinks, is that people have electromagnetic fields too, and sensory-fields are basically just controllable EM fields.

She sifts through the nearby chakra signatures, trying to find the _wrongness_ Kakashi noticed.

Everything feels normal to her—until she touches on a signature that feels _hot_ —like a light bulb about to burn out.

“There!” Kakashi hisses. “That’s it!”

She nods and leads him to the source—a dying shinobi in the lineup. She frowns and leans down to inspect them.

One of the jōnin standing watch over the dead and dying walks over, curious.

“Don’t get too close—some of them are running high temperatures. Might be some kind of poison. Could be airborne.”

She doesn’t think so. Looking at the dying shinobi’s nexus, a fiery bright ring with a crackling of sparks, she’d almost say it looks like Daruma’s… She spots a creeping red vein in his neck, pulsing with a red-hot glare, and jumps back.

“Curse of Immolation—”

“Bomb!” Kakashi shouts. Everyone scatters.

He grabs her hand and drags her into the ground with him, using the body flicker technique in tandem with her Tōkatsuchi no Jutsu. His speed makes the journey through the rocks and soil _rough._

The explosion they narrowly avoided shakes the ground all around them, and triggers several more explosions. The sudden destruction of seven nexuses above her is in stark contrast to the blind darkness around them. Several more nexuses dim, becoming hollow voids. Nobody attempted to move the other shinobi in the line with the ‘bomb’. Bombs.

Tears run down her cheeks. Then Kakashi pulls them up to the surface and she bites down on a sob—there was another shinobi with the Curse of Immolation; an unconscious and injured shinobi being loaded onto a stretcher by the chūnin sensors. The four sensors are dead.

There are viscera and body parts everywhere, and even Honōka can smell the thick tang of blood and guts and recoils from the intensity of it. Kakashi is almost overwhelmed.

Yoshino and Tsubasa, and the other eight medic-nin, are shaken but not injured. The jōnin with the missing fingers managed to erect a thick earthen wall between them and the shinobi affected by the Curse of Immolation.

“Go!” He shouts. “Get out of here! Iwa’s starting things with a bang!”

A glowing white beam cuts through the predawn sky, and Honōka shuts her eyes against the searing light. Kakashi pushes her to the ground and covers her with his body.

A crack like thunder and the accompanying percussion of a massive explosion rattles every cell in her body. Multiple shock waves pulse through the atmosphere, nearly tossing her and Kakashi into the air with the destroyed tents and tarps whipping around them. Kakashi clings to the ground with chakra and keeps them both from being blown away as well.

A backdraft tugs them in the opposite direction, and Kakashi loses his grip on the ground. They tumble over each other, over and over, and Kakashi digs his arm into the ground, stopping them at the cost of wrenching his shoulder out of socket.

The sky goes dark again and they lie in the dirt; shocked, panting, and scratched up from being tossed and rolled around like a temari ball.

She swallows. It feels like dozens of signatures just disappeared.

Sensei’s emotion cut through her stupor—the mental equivalent of a shove and she rolls onto her knees. It’s time for her and Kakashi to leave.

She collapses, clutching her head. Everyone’s emotions have caught up to the present situation and it’s just…it’s _just…!_ It’s…it’s a _mess!_ Everything is a **_mess!_**

Loud, _loud!_ Everything is too **_loud!_**

Honōka instinctively tries to escape the cacophony by raising her amplitude to harmonize with the area’s ambiance, to drown out the screaming signatures all around her with Shōkyo. And for a moment it works. 

Her chakra _sings,_ and her sensory-field expands, _opens,_ and hums like never before. But the area's ambiance is too great for her to match. And then, like a string instrument under too much pressure, something snaps.

She blacks out for a couple seconds; an unexpected hard shutdown. Her brain boots up again, and it takes her a moment to make any kind of sense.

Kakashi is dragging her over one shoulder, his other arm hanging limp at his side.

“Move your feet, dammit!” He shouts.

She tries, but she feels numb—scrambled. She doesn’t know what she just did, but whatever it was, she has almost no chakra left.

Honōka takes a deep breath in, pulling chakra from the saturated air, and feeds it to her lower dantian, like tinder. Her sluggishly turning nexus spins a little faster and her core stabilizes.

A pin prick of light glows in the sky and a nexus that is fire, earth, and wind, accelerates. Ōnoki of the Dust Release.

She’s not entirely sure what the distance between them is—but it has to be greater than two hundred meters. Either that, or Ōnoki is really, _really,_ short.

A glint of steel pierces the sky shedding its stars, and the glowing light goes out.

Honōka blinks. The glint of steel is a very long sword—and it’s growing, chasing after Ōnoki as he flies through the sky. A flash of yellow zips along the length of the blade and—that’s Minato!

“Kakashi, Kakashi!” She exclaims. “It’s Minato!”

“If you can run your mouth, you can move your feet! Come on, Honōka, snap out of it, you dumb sensor!”

Minato looks to be trading blows with Ōnoki midair and then is suddenly gone—teleported somewhere else by his Hiraishin no Jutsu.

Then Ōnoki is forcefully teleported down to the ground, and Honōka knows they’re _way_ too close. She picks up her feet and clumsily runs alongside Kakashi, who throws them into a breakneck shunshin.

They don’t get far. Kakashi abruptly kneels and she frowns.

“Kakashi?”

He’s bleeding. There’s a hole in his shirt and wire-mesh armor is poking out around a piece of broken bamboo tent pole.

“Kakashi!?”

He holds his side and pants.

“I’m fine. It’s not piercing anything important.” He shows her his bloody hand as proof. “The blood’s supposed to be darker if it’s coming from organs.”

She’s pretty sure that is _not_ a reliable method for determining the extent of a gut wound! She reaches for him, about to transform him into Madara to move him, but reconsiders. What if the bamboo pole disappears and he bleeds out? She’s too small to carry him in her arms though…

She transforms herself, Tomoe being the first to come to mind, and picks Kakashi up. Yoshino and Tsubasa are about two kilometers away.

Honōka half sprints, half flickers, the entire way, breathing hard when she reaches them.

“Yoshino-san!”

Yoshino raises a kunai and Honōka transforms back, awkwardly putting Kakashi down. Something pulls in her belly—most likely the chakra sutures in her recent surgical incision. She ignores it. It’s not bleeding, probably.

“Kakashi’s injured!”

“I can see that,” Yoshino says. She runs a glowing green hand over the wound.

“Is he going to be okay?!”

“…He’s lucky." Yoshino lets out a relieved breath. "This piece of debris was blunt enough that it pushed his intestines aside, instead of piercing them. There's more damage on the outside than the inside."

No pierced internal organs sounds good to her.

“I can stabilize the wound right now with bandages, but we need to get out of here, and fast. We are _way_ too close to the action.”

Honōka grabs the gauze and compression bandages she’s taken to carrying around out of her back tool pouch. It's more useful than carrying around useless tools she can’t even throw properly. 

Yoshino takes the items from her and packs the gauze around the wound and protruding bamboo. Kakashi grunts.

“Pull it out.”

“What?”

“Pull it out!”

Tsubasa shoulders her out of the way, having finished stabilizing his own patient—one of the other medic-nin, she thinks.

“Don’t bite your tongue, Kakashi-kun.” He warns and pulls the pole out in one clean movement. Kakashi lets out a guttural scream and she falls back on her ass, head spinning again.

Yoshino presses down on the wound and Tsubasa grabs the compression bandages, winding them around Kakashi’s wound with practiced ease.

“Get up, Honōka-kun. We’re running, _now.”_


	66. Assuming nothing else goes to hell today?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yoshino flops down and pops a soldier pill, chewing angrily.
> 
> “This is a nightmare and a half.” She grumbles.

Honōka can give Kakashi a piggyback ride now that his wound is packed with gauze and bound with compression bandages. It’s not ideal method of transportation for his current condition and is excruciating for Kakashi, who is forced to hold on with one arm only. The other is in a sling, his dislocated shoulder having been reduced by Tsubasa already.

She keeps up with Yoshino, Tsubasa, and his injured passenger well enough, despite her stomach throbbing. But the battlefield is a dynamic thing, and she has to call for them to change their heading several times to avoid running into pockets of fighting. Eventually, they make it to the new ‘rear’. The sounds of battle can still be heard in the distance.

Yoshino flops down and pops a soldier pill, chewing angrily.

“This is a nightmare and a half.” She grumbles.

Tsubasa nods and gently puts down his passenger, rolling them onto their side and into the recovery position. They passed out on the way.

She lets Kakashi down, who slumps back, fisting the material of his coat, knuckles turning white. He’s panting, winded by the pain.

“Just give me a minute, Kakashi. I’ll patch you up when the soldier pill kicks in.” Yoshino promises.

He grunts and Honōka wipes the sweat off his face with her coat sleeve. Kakashi glares at her. Tetchy, she thinks, and leaves him alone.

She rubs the wind burn off her cheeks and takes in several steadying breaths before compulsively reaching for the sky and pulling it down, breathing it in and pushing it down through her body and back into the ground. She repeats the chikō exercise several times before widening her stance and switching to a twisting motion, shaking her arms out and knocking her swinging palms on her spine and lower dantian. Her grandfather called it Knocking on the Door of Life, and she used to think it was super embarrassing.

“…What is Honōka-kun doing?” Tsubasa asks, shooting them all an incredulous look.

“No idea.” Yoshino replies.

Kakashi grits out a sigh. “Chikō. She does it when she’s stressed out. It’s supposed to realign the flow of chi and flush out stagnating energies, I think.”

Tsubasa hums. “Is now the best time to be engaging in a coping mechanism?”

“Oh, shut up, Tsubasa.” Yoshino snorts. “She's just a kid, and an S-rank sensor. Let her do her thing—unless you want her short circuiting on us later.”

Tsubasa looks properly chagrined, and Kakashi interested.

“Is that what that is?” Kakashi asks.

“What what is?” Yoshino responds.

“Short circuiting. It happened earlier, and a few times before.”

Yoshino shrugs. “Who knows? It happens in my clan sometimes—usually when someone activates a Sharingan. They get overwhelmed by all the new sensory input and mental fatigue.”

“Does it go away, or get better, when they get used to it?”

Yoshino considers. “I don’t know. I think they just get better at hiding it.”

“Oh.”

Yoshino pushes herself to get up and stumbles over to Kakashi on weak knees, kneeling next to him. She forms the seals for a medical ninjutsu and cuts through his bindings with it. He winces as the pressure releases.

Honōka ends her chikō exercise and sits at Kakashi’s other side. She offers her hand out for him to squeeze as Yoshino pulls the dressing off his sticky wound.

His grip tightens, and he throws his head back with a hissed oath and almost brains himself on the cold ground. She catches the back of his head before he can.

Yoshino flushes the wound with a canteen filled with crude saline solution and then knits the gaping wound back together with medical ninjutsu.

Honōka swallows. She doesn’t think she could become a medical-nin, even if she wanted to. 

She can help Sensei perform autopsies, but when it comes to healing, she’s not sure she has the stomach for it. Honōka thinks she would freeze up, afraid of the responsibility of putting someone back together.

Yoshino works on the wound for fifteen minutes, and Honōka lets herself be distracted by Kakashi crushing her hand—and also by the nearest pockets of fighting.

The good news is they’re pushing the Iwa-nin back. The first aid and minor healing they administered during the night put several heavy hitters back on the field.

The bad news is Kakashi is exhausted by the healing and passes out before Yoshino even finishes. Honōka wipes the sweat off his temples again, now that he won’t complain about it.

“Is… Is he going to be okay?”

“Assuming nothing else goes to hell today? Yes.” Yoshino packs his wound with fresh gauze, a star-shaped scar with a raw center. “No more running around or fighting for Kakashi. This wound needs more healing than I can currently give it—and he needs a blood replenisher.”

She nods. Sounds reasonable.

Tsubasa clears his throat.

“I hate to ask this—but could you check in on Kaoru? We don’t know if the injured shinobi we sent back to the temporary camp had that… exploding curse…?”

Honōka hadn’t even thought about that possibility and quickly matches her chakra signature with the ambient frequency. She does not dare raise her amplitude like she did before, for fear of causing that split second resonance that knocked her offline, again—she’ll just have to put up with the noise and muddle through, somehow.

She finds Kaoru and the camp after a long moment of searching.

“The camp is fine,” she says. Yoshino and Tsubasa let out breaths of relief.

“Should we head back on our own?” Yoshino asks. “Everyone else is, well, I don’t actually know if they survived?” She directs that last part at Honōka.

“Locking onto unfamiliar signatures in this chaos is next to impossible for me.” She answers. 

Specifically, everyone is more or less feeling the same emotions (fear, panic, excitement, dread) and she’d be forced to profile unfamiliar signatures based on nature affinity, rotation, and ratio. Ratio is even less reliable than usual, as it fluctuates during combat depending on which types of techniques someone favors.

Fugaku, for instance—who she can feel like a bonfire at her back—is burning through his spiritual chakra like it’s dry grass. His lower dantian rapidly converts his physical chakra into more spiritual chakra to keep up with the demand while still maintaining the stability and efficiency of his natural rhythm.

It’s normal for the lower dantian to convert one chakra nature into another to maintain the stability of the body’s preferred ratio—but not at the speed Fugaku’s is. It usually happens while the body is at rest, and she highly doubts Fugaku is resting at the moment.

“Do you see something, Honōka?” Yoshino asks, tensing. “Please tell me it’s not coming this way.”

Honōka shrugs. “It’s not coming this way.”

“Yoshino, help me get Momiji-kun up.” Tsubasa orders. “We’re heading back to the temporary camp with or without the rest of the team. If they made it through the last attack, they’ll be trying to do the same.”

Yoshino locks her jaw and nods, curtly. She’s not happy about leaving the rest of her team behind, but Tsubasa is the team leader. Honōka waits for them to secure Momiji and tries waking Kakashi up, but he’s deeply unconscious, completely exhausted. He doesn’t stir, not even when she pokes his ear.

“I’ll carry him this time, Honōka.” Yoshino says. “You just help me get him secured on my back.”

“I can carry him, Yoshino-san.”

Yoshino flicks her between the eyes and she yelps. That stung!

“You aren’t a workhorse, Honōka, and you barely kept up with us last time. I’ll carry Kakashi this time.”

She nods, unhappily. “Yes, Yoshino-san.”

“Good, now help me out.”

The run back to the temporary camp is much easier. They even meet up with two other medic-nin on the way, bringing their total to five or half of the medical team’s members.

The camp is a state—too many injured jōnin and chūnin awake and insisting they head back to battle. Kaoru is awkwardly insisting they wait to be seen by a member of the Medical Corps before running off on their own.

Of the five medical-nin that returned, one is unconscious and the other four are operating on their last dredges of chakra.

Tsubasa massages his bloodshot eyes with the heels of his palms and clears his throat, shouting for those who can stand without assistance to form a line. It’s not a very long line, and the rest of the injured shinobi are forced to bite their tongues.

Kaoru approaches her, now that they are no longer being forced to deal with a bunch of unruly shinobi.

“The rest of my team… They didn’t make it, did they?”

Honōka shakes her head.

“I see.” Kaoru swallows, wiping away overflowing tears. “I…I’m going to take a quick break. Can you…can you handle the Intelligence Division… Sensing on your own for a bit?”

Honōka bites her lip.

“I can.”

Kaoru nods and waves one hand, wandering away to find somewhere quiet to pull themself together again.


	67. Who are you?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She yawns, and brings her knees up to her chest, rubbing her dirty toes with one hand. She blows on them with chakra warmed breath. She still hasn’t figured out fire—but hot air she can do.

Nothing else goes to hell while Honōka watches the situation, though Yoshino has to track down Kaoru, eventually, and make them take over for her. She hasn’t slept in close to twenty-four hours. 

Kaoru takes over and she finds a spot to lie down somewhere, but there’s hardly any room left in the two tents they set up the day before. She finds Kakashi in the middle row of one tent and climbs in next to him, under the cut up tarp being used as an insulator. It’s better than nothing, but it’s definitely not a blanket. 

She wishes she had her scratchy bedroll.

She has a major headache again, from using her sensor ability often and pushing it to the absolute limit. Honōka turns it down as much as she ever can, but that does nothing to stop her from feeling the restless emotions saturating the area, packed together as they are.

She would jump into Kakashi’s liminal space to decompress for a while—but a quick peek shows it’s as stormy as is usual.

She has a thought.

If matching the frequency of everything else with Shōkyo dims other signatures, what will attuning with Kakashi’s signature do? Despite the stormy interior of his liminal space, his exterior is pleasantly warm and staticky—a presence that mutes out others, sometimes.

She leans into Kakashi’s side and synchronizes with his chakra signature.

Nothing changes at first—she still hears everyone around her and _maybe_ feels Kakashi’s staticky signature a little more acutely.

And then she realizes why Rin and Obito are constantly complaining about Kakashi sneaking up on them. His sensory-field is _tiny._ For Rin and Obito, who have not trained their chakra sensitivity and thus also have small sensory-fields, there’d be almost no overlap between them—nothing to trigger the most instinctual awareness of another person’s presence. Even Sensei can’t make his presence, his sensory-field, so small!

Honōka never noticed before, maybe because her sensory-field is just so large that it doesn’t matter whether someone has a small or large presence—she feels everything, regardless. And she also _mistakenly_ thought Kakashi’s sensory-field was large enough to overlap and mute out others.

But it’s not. 

So what causes the fuzzy-ness and noise cancellation-like quality of Kakashi’s presence? Honōka considers what could interfere with the chakra fueled sensory-field emitted—large or small—by every living thing. 

She concludes that an actual electromagnetic field could do the trick. After all, the electromagnetic fields generated by the substations in Konoha are strong enough that they create huge blind spots in her sensory-field. 

So, Kakashi’s lightning natured nexus is literally generating electromagnetic interference—enough to scatter smaller sensory-fields! If he could increase that, he could knock out larger sensory-fields—and in doing so, he could potentially hide nearby allies by scattering their sensory-fields, and completely prevent enemy sensors from engaging their ability to sense others.

What an exciting possibility! She wants to wake Kakashi up and bug him about it, but he would probably just growl at her for it. She settles for distracting herself with the thought of it all until she falls into a deep, exhausted, dreamless sleep.

She feels a cold puff of clammy breath on the back of her neck and a shiver travels down the length of her spine, ending at the base. Her lower dantian wobbles, a jagged tear in the wall of her gut leaking black mist.

 _"Kagome, Kagome… Kago no naka no tori wa_ … _Ushiro no shōmen daare…"_

Who _is_ behind her?

She turns. A single shoe lands in a pitch black puddle. The splash echoes. She thinks she hears screeching tires, somewhere.

The breathing on the back of her neck gets louder and her body locks up.

_"Itsu, itsu, deyaru… Yoake no ban ni…"_

What's coming?

_"Tsuru to kame ga subetta…"_

What's falling? _Who_ is slipping?!

 _"_ _Ushiro no shōmen daare…"_

Honōka twists on her feet, facing the darkness. 

"Who are you?!" She yells. Her voice cracks. The breathing returns.

_" **"̶̼͊͆d̵̻͒ā̷̺͎r̸̪̳͗͊ë̵͈́ ̴̱͝͝d̶̞͊e̶̺̽s̶̭̭̔̂ự̵͊k̸̩͌a̸̦͙͝?̶͖̘̕"̸͇̈́̈ "**_

“Honōka, you’re drooling on my arm.”

She rolls over and throws out her arms in a big stretch, smacking the chūnin in the space next to them. He grunts in his sleep and shoves her arm off him.

“Sorry…” she mumbles. “What time is it?”

“Dusk.”

She sits up so fast she has to hold her stomach for a moment. It growls at her. Her head hurts too. And her toes are cold.

Kakashi sits up slowly and hands her a rice ball and a bamboo thermos with weak but still warm tea. She gobbles it all down without another word.

“Don’t rush—you’ll choke.” Kakashi shakes his head at her, amused. “You missed the good stuff, earlier. There was rabbit soup, but you wouldn’t wake up.”

She shrugs. She was tired, and it was a very long day. She trains her attention on the battlefield and frowns.

“They’re still fighting?” The fighting reached a lull by this time yesterday.

“There was another pause in the fighting around noon.” He says. “A jōnin-sensei said that’s expected during long battles—starts and stops until the only shinobi left are the really strong ones.”

She nods. That’s what it feels like. Most of the Iwa-nin have pulled back to the border, with only Ōnoki and fifty or so shinobi fighting with him, and about the same for Sensei and Minato. The rest of the Konoha Border Patrol is pulling back to the temporary camp.

She leans into Kakashi. About half of the shinobi, enemies and allies alike, who went into this battle, are gone. _Dead._ She sniffles and he bumps elbows with her.

“I should get up and take over sensing for Kaoru-san.” She says.

Kakashi shakes his head. “Inoichi’s back—so are Shikaku and Chōza.”

Honōka blinks and locks in on their signatures. “Are they okay?”

He shrugs his good shoulder. “Mostly. Torifu ordered them off the field.”

She tugs on Inoichi’s nexus and he tells her to back off in tap code. He’s busy and very irritated—worried, too. She doesn't pester him for information.

“I want this to end already.” She whispers. “I want Sensei and everyone to come back to us, and I want to go home.”

Kakashi nods, only once. He wants what she wants, too, but he’s less optimistic about them getting it.

She pokes Kakashi, gently, in the side.

“How’s your wound?”

“It’s fine…” He pauses. “How’s yours?”

She frowns. She didn’t think he would notice.

“I don’t have one.”

Kakashi pokes her side, just above the surgical incision, less gently, and she winces.

“You didn’t tell Yoshino about it, did you?”

She sticks her tongue out at him.

“It’s fine. I just pulled it a little.”

“You’re sure?”

She nods. “It barely hurts.”

“Honōka…”

“It feels like a bruise—tender, that’s it, I swear.” And somewhat sharp when she twists.

“…” He considers. “You can go back to sleep. There’s nothing for either of us to do, except wait.”

She thinks he wants Yoshino or one of the other medical-nin to look at her, but he understands that they’re preoccupied with more severely injured shinobi at the moment. Otherwise, he would be hounding someone to look at her. She guesses sleeping is the next best thing she can do to ease his nerves.

She yawns, and brings her knees up to her chest, rubbing her dirty toes with one hand. She blows on them with chakra warmed breath. She still hasn’t figured out fire—but hot air she can do.

“I lost you scarf. Sorry.”

Kakashi blinks at her, then snorts.

“Don’t worry about it. I have a bunch more at the apartment.”

“Oh. That’s good.” 

He never calls his apartment 'home', Honōka thinks, and he refuses to go back to his actual home. It’s sad.

There’s a sudden flash of light, like lightning, but whiter, that brightens the walls of the tent and everyone stiffens and holds their breath. The light fades, but no one relaxes. There’s no bang, no thunderous roar.

“Ōnoki’s about nineteen kilometers away.” She tells those conscious enough to be afraid of the deeply unsettling light.

Nobody relaxes, despite her assurance. Almost a full minute passes before the sound of the punchy bang reaches them. The tent rustles from the distant shock wave. 

“Nineteen kilometers?” Kakashi asks. “That’s closer than before, isn’t it?”

She nods.

Several more flashes of light in quick succession. She bites her tongue to keep from whimpering. The bangs come in at around fifty seconds.

“Honōka…?”

“Just shy of seventeen kilometers.” She confirms, voice thin and dry.

“Do we need to move?”

She nods and gets to her feet, shakily. “Shikaku’s already made up his mind.” She helps Kakashi stand up just as someone pulls the tent flap open and yells for everyone to get up.

“Orochimaru-sensei and Minato?” Kakashi asks.

“They’re alive.”

Still fighting, still struggling. They’re getting tired—but so is Ōnoki. And yet, he can keep launching those insane attacks. A kekkei tōta is in a league of its own, and the chakra capacity of the user nearly inhuman. 

The ground shakes and Kakashi grabs her hand. He’s trembling. She is too.

They follow the swiftly evacuating shinobi, numbly. No one asks them to help carry anything or anybody—she’s not sure if anyone even notices them; two small children who have somehow found themselves on the front lines. 

_“You are just a child, Honōka.”_ Sensei's words echo.

She feels like one—she _really_ feels like one. She’s never been so afraid in all her life. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kagome Kagome is a [children's game](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kagome_Kagome) that is somewhat creepy. 
> 
> Japanese lyrics:  
> Kagome kagome / Kago no naka no tori wa  
> Itsu itsu deyaru / Yoake no ban ni  
> Tsuru to kame ga subetta.  
> Ushiro no shoumen daare
> 
> The English lyrics are:  
> Kagome kagome / The bird in the basket/cage,  
> When, oh when will it come out  
> In the night of dawn  
> The crane and turtle slipped  
> Who is behind you now?


	68. Sword of Kusanagi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You have yet to use the evolved Sharingan for more than mere posturing.”
> 
> Fugaku scowls at him.
> 
> “I’m still trying to figure out what it does.”

In hindsight, Orochimaru realizes that distancing Ōnoki from the battlefield was not his brightest idea. Yes, doing so may have spared the lives of the fifty-three Konoha-nin still fighting with him, Minato, and Fugaku—but it also gave Ōnoki both the incentive and the leeway to unleash his Dust Release.

Of course the old fool _actually_ cares about his comrades getting caught in his jutsu and separating Ōnoki from his men gives him the necessary space to go all out.

“Watch out!” Minato shouts.

He doesn’t ‘watch out’ fast enough and Minato transports him to his side with the Hiraishin. A particle beam strikes the area several hundred meters to the east of them, where Orochimaru had just been crouching.

It’s unfortunate the seal Minato placed on Ōnoki earlier in the day has since been neutralized. The difference in strength wouldn’t be quite so exaggerated if they could keep interrupting him with the Hiraishin technique as they could before.

Minato pants, and his Sage Mode dissolves. Fugaku appears next to them out of a shunshin, his regular mitsudomoe Sharingan spinning irregularly.

“Does that bastard ever get tired?” He gripes. “I’m starting to think the wrong old man is holding the title ‘God of Shinobi’.”

They’re hidden well enough while Ōnoki waits patiently for them to reveal themselves, a hundred meters in the air. Praise the gods that they did not see fit to bless him with the sensor abilities of his predecessor, Mū, and the Dust Release.

“Trust me—you would not question Sarutobi-sensei’s right to the title if it were him we were fighting.”

Fugaku grunts.

“Ōnoki has more chakra. A lot more.” He says.

“And Sarutobi-sensei has more than one way to kill an opponent.”

“'I fear not the man who has practiced ten thousand kicks once, but the man who has practiced one kick ten thousand times.'”

He and Fugaku stare at Minato.

“Who on _earth_ are you quoting?” He asks.

“Honōka-chan—”

“Of course,” Fugaku says. “I shouldn't be surprised.”

“She said they’re words of wisdoms from a martial artist named Bu-Burūsu Rī?”

Orochimaru considers. “Ten thousand different jutsu are more frightening than a single jutsu—even if it is overwhelmingly powerful.”

Fugaku crosses his arms, glancing around their cover to gauge Ōnoki with his Sharingan. “I disagree. Dust Release honed for over sixty years is terrifying.”

“And what if half the ten thousand jutsu are like, gardening techniques? Cooking techniques? And the rest are C-ranks?”

He scoffs.

“Gardening techniques?” Fugaku asks. “There are jutsu for gardening?”

“Sure, Honōka made a bunch up for D-ranks.”

Fugaku snorts, loud and sharp. Ōnoki aims a particle beam at them. They scatter.

"Damn geezer has ears like a fox!" Fugaku complains.

Having three targets to juggle between is the only thing keeping Ōnoki on his toes, Orochimaru thinks. If he were fighting only one opponent, he likely would have launched his largest attack already. The only reason Ōnoki has not, is likely because it will drain him to such a degree that he must first be certain that he can hit all three of them at once.

Minato meets up with him again. “Has the Sword of Kusanagi reformed yet?”

 _“No.”_ He has asked him that several times already. The answer is still no.

Another drill shaped particle beam drives them apart. He ends up running side by side with Fugaku.

“You have yet to use the evolved Sharingan for more than mere posturing.”

Fugaku scowls at him.

“I’m still trying to figure out what it does.”

Orochimaru weaves the seals for Fūton: Toppa, one handed, and aims a powerful gust at Ōnoki. It blows him off course and his next particle beam shoots over the horizon. The bang from the dry explosion pulses in his ears long after it dies.

“Figure it out faster.”

Fugaku chokes on an offended retort, diving out of the way of another cube shaped projectile. Ōnoki likes to sneak those in when he thinks their attention is wandering.

“I’d like to see you try to figure out these damned eyes…!”

“Is that an offer?”

Fugaku glares at him and Minato yells from somewhere nearby. He’s entered Sage Mode again.

“He’s joking! Probably!”

Ōnoki switches up his routine by tosses several large stone spears at them. The density of the stone is several times greater than a standard Doton: Dosekidake, especially considering it was formed from the dust motes in the air rather than the dirt in the ground.

The impact blows them off their feet and throws great clouds of dust and debris into the air—providing Ōnoki with more material to condense into ammunitions and launch at them. Ōnoki continues the barrage while he, Minato, and Fugaku stumble out of Ōnoki’s firing range, choking on dust and dirt as they dodge haphazard shots.

The veritable shelling pauses and Minato’s knees hit the ground. He coughs, trying to bring up whatever obstruction he’s inhaled.

“Shit!” Fugaku swears. “Get out of the dust cloud!”

Orochimaru grabs Minato around the waist with one arm and attempts to flicker away. He feels a blast of heat coming and immerses them both in the water prison technique—preparing his chakra manipulation to maintain a cool temperature so that they don’t boil to death.

Another layer of chakra encases them, one that he recognizes as belonging to Fugaku. There’s something different about it, though he does not have time to analyze just what that difference is.

The dust ignites all around them and explodes. They’re thrown several thousand meters back—several kilometers—a harrowing experience for anyone, himself included.

The three of them crash into the tree line, and whatever strange blood red chakra construct Fugaku has encased them in takes the brunt of the force from the landing. Even so, the—ribs?—crack.

“Sage have mercy. That’s the… I have the—the Susanoo?!”

Minato continues coughing and expels blood and bile from his lungs. He’s trembling from the effort of clearing his airways, and his Sage Mode has once again dispelled. 

Minato is at the end of his rope. He’s risking fatal chakra exhaustion if he keeps pushing for more, and if he tries to cultivate natural energy again in his current state, he might turn into stone.

“Gods damn,” Fugaku curses, holding his stomach. “Is this the temporary camp? Just how far did that explosion send us?”

Orochimaru stands up, massaging his chest. They’re lucky that landing only knocked the wind out of them. He pulls Minato up, who leans into him, panting hard.

“Go. Catch up with the camp.”

“What?” Minato wheezes. “I can still fight…!”

Orochimaru runs a diagnostic jutsu and clicks his tongue at Minato.

“You have a collapsed lung. Go.”

“But—!”

“You’re useless to us like this!” Fugaku snaps. “You’ll only get yourself—and us—killed if you try to fight in your condition.”

Minato hangs his head, biting his lip until it bleeds. Tears streak down his dusty face. Orochimaru scoffs at himself. Why on earth was he ever jealous of this teenager? He’s barely more than a child!

“Go. You can still make sure Honōka and Kakashi get out of this unscathed.”

“But, Orochimaru-sensei—!”

“Go!”

He wipes his face and turns. White light illuminates the back of his dirty but still yellow gold hair. Orochimaru grabs him and jumps away. Fugaku’s chakra construct—Susanoo—materializes a skeletal arm and hand, catching the point of the drill shaped particle beam.

It diverts it just a few degrees, enough that Orochimaru and Minato don’t become dust. The blast sends them flying though, and the heat stings his face and eyes.

He holds Minato to his chest and hits the ground back first, rolling a few times before finding his feet again, chasing the momentum. A tree next to him explodes and he blows the splintering wood and hot embers back with a gust of chakra enhanced breath.

The woman with the explosion kekkei genkai retreats into the shadows that his partially flash blinded eyes cannot see through.

Reinforcements. Wonderful.

“Hmph.”

He glances up. Ōnoki has descended to a more reachable altitude.

“It really is _that…_ What did Madara call it again…? Susanoo—bah! Supercilious. I suppose I should kill you now, before you can finish summoning it into this world, young Uchiha.”

The woman’s partner steps out of the shadow and charges Orochimaru, forcing him to run his bloodied nose over the exposed summoning mark on his arm. Several vipers spring at the Iwa-nin, who beats a hasty retreat, shouting a quick warning to his partner about the new hazard.

Minato breaks away from him and takes up a fighting stance.

Orochimaru hisses at him. “Save your strength for getting out of here, Minato!”

“But!”

He shoves Minato away as a kunai with a simple explosive tag comes from the darkness. He kicks it by the handle, straight up into the air, where it detonates above them.

He spots the two Iwa-nin in the light from the explosion and directs his killing intent at them.

He’s been repressing it so much lately that the intensity nearly surprises him. He smiles, viciously; he’s still got it. The woman freezes and her younger partner drops to one knee.

The light from the explosion fizzles out and he grabs Minato under the arm and put distance between them. Fugaku is holding his own for the moment—likely because Ōnoki is toying with him, passingly interested in seeing how the ‘young Uchiha’s’ Susanoo compares to Madara’s. He held quite a bit of animosity for Madara in his youth.

Orochimaru is about to tell Minato to go, _again,_ when Inuzuka Gaku and his oversized dog skid to a stop next to them.

“Yo! Need a ride?” Gaku pants, grinning. The bandage on his chest looks wet even in the dark. “Honōka said you might need one.”

The shadows darken around them, and there are two startled screams from the Iwa-nin.

Nara Shikaku.

Orochimaru’s mouth twitches into a feral little smile. It appears his student put Inoshikachō into play. 

He lifts Minato and seats him on Chairo’s back. He doesn’t protest and slumps over, holding his right side, panting in quick and shallow breaths.

“Alright, my part here is done." Gaku declares, eying Minato's condition critically. "Don’t die, guys!” 

He takes off, gone as quickly as he arrived.

Chōza crashes through the trees, using the multi-size technique to rip up a tree, swinging it at the Iwa-nin that have escaped Shikaku’s shadows with flashbangs.

Inoichi is nowhere to be seen. Shikaku melts out of the darkness next to him.

“Chakra exhaustion.” He says, deducing who his roaming eyes were searching for. “We had to push Inoichi to coordinate the regrouping efforts after Ōnoki broke from the battlefield to chase you guys. It was total chaos.”

“How unfortunate.”

Shikaku scowls.

“What’s even the deal here? Shouldn’t Ōnoki be retreating? He’s just wasting his time without his army.”

“Fugaku has piqued his interest.”

“Yeah, what the _fuck_ is that even?”

He doesn’t respond to the Nara. He can figure it out on his own, given enough time. And now that he’s had a breather, he really should back Fugaku up. He summons Jorō.

“Orochimaru-sama, the Sword of Kusanagi has reformed! Would you like to summon it now?”

He nods, holding his hand out. She spits out the hilt of the double-edged blade and he draws it smoothly from her stomach.

“Dismissed, Jorō.”

She disappears in a puff of smoke and he swings the immortal weapon, mowing down the trees with a single scythe-like sweep of the blade.

“About time, Orochimaru!” Fugaku shouts.

“Shikaku, deal with the Explosion Corps.”

He scowls at him. “I can keep them busy with Chōza’s help, for a while, but ‘dealing’ with them is gonna be hard without Inoichi.”

“Do what you can.”


	69. Better concussed than dust.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Sensei!”
> 
> _No._
> 
> …
> 
> _No!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big chapter--or well, bigger than I normally write. I didn't want to split it up because that would have been cruel. Also, this chapter just goes a bit bonkers. This has been kind of planned? Since the beginning? But it got way crazier than I intended. More notes at the end!

Orochimaru plunges into the fight with a flourish of the Sword of Kusanagi, snapping the extending blade like a whip. Ōnoki deftly weaves in and out of the curving path of the blade, and Orochimaru clicks his tongue.

“Where’s the young one? Konoha’s Yellow Flash?” Ōnoki asks. “Did I get him with that last attack? Bah! Pity.”

“The boy has no need for your pity, Tsuchikage.” He grinds out. Controlling the Sword of Kusanagi becomes more difficult as he extends it, and willing it to flex and bend is also not the easiest.

“It’s getting late, Ōnoki!” Fugaku plants his feet and reaches out with one arm and the Susanoo’s skeletal arm parrots the movement. “We sent the kid to bed.”

Ōnoki chuckles.

“That’s too bad for you lot. You might have stood a chance with the three of you working against me.”

“Oh, I think we are managing just fine on our own.”

He aims the retracted Kusanagi at Ōnoki and it flashes forward, like a striking snake.

“Tsuchikage-sama!”

Ōnoki breaks out of the subtle genjutsu at the last moment, narrowly avoiding a fatal skewering. Kusanagi still pierces his left shoulder through the subscapularis. He won’t be able to lift his left arm anymore, Orochimaru thinks.

He wrenches the Sword of Kusanagi down, but Ōnoki slides off the blade before he can cut his heart out. It was too much to hope for. The Kusanagi reverts to its resting state, steel fatigued from the vigorous transforming.

“The Uchiha aren’t the only ones who use genjutsu in Konoha, you know?” Fugaku snarks.

“I have no idea what you are talking about.” Orochimaru smugly replies. “Genjutsu is not my strong suit.”

Ōnoki snarls at them both and raises his right arm. He only needs one arm for his technique—but will it be as strong?

“Teruka, Kasai. Get Back. I’ve had enough fun for one day. It’s time to put the youngsters to bed.”

The members of the Explosion Corps break away from Shikaku and Chōza, posthaste. He hears Shikaku cursing up a storm and bites his thumb. He has enough chakra left to summon a single Rashōmon.

“Brace yourself, Fugaku!” He shouts.

A dark red cloak of chakra settles over Fugaku’s Susanoo, covering the bones as it wraps its arms around Fugaku, shrouding him in pure chakra.

Ōnoki’s technique expands, opening into a massive flat disk, and Orochimaru slams his hand down, summoning a Rashōmon gate as the technique explodes forward. Radiant light is cast on either side of the gate, and he hopes Shikaku and Chōza did not try to outrun the jutsu. It’s simply not possible.

The gate lurches back, metal screeching. The bells clang against the sides before disintegrating. Then the Rashōmon’s thick metal doors glow red hot and begin dripping like melting candle wax. A skeletal hand sweeps him off his feet, pulling him inside its cloak with Fugaku.

He hears the gate blow apart and the pulsing sizzle of the particle beam reducing everything in its path to dust. Fugaku’s Susanoo glows bright red and his evolved Sharingan spins until the pattern blurs.

“Kunitsukami: Ashihara no Shikō!”

Fugaku’s Susanoo disappears as their surroundings suddenly morph into a golden field of reeds and a misty white sky. His feet sink into the marshy soil, silt filling his sandals. It feels warm on his cold toes. 

Ōnoki appears on the plain some meters from them, and the tall reeds almost obscure his face. He gapes and stares at his right hand, which is no longer emitting the Dust Release technique.

“What is this?” Ōnoki whispers, voice echoing in the dewy air. “Genjutsu?”

Orochimaru isn’t certain. He runs his hand through the reeds and plucks one, twirling it between his fingertips. It appears to be a variety of rice grain. He squeezes and feels the fibrous stem break between his thumb and forefinger.

If it is a genjutsu, it’s unlike any he’s ever experienced.

Fugaku lists to the side and collapses, panting heavily. Tears stream down his face.

“Fugaku?” He kneels next to the younger man and forms the seals for a diagnostic jutsu. Nothing happens.

Ōnoki also realizes they cannot use chakra in these golden fields and charges at them, kunai drawn.

“I don’t know what in the eight hells the Uchiha brat did—but it should end if I carve out his eyes!”

Fugaku passes out, and with a jolt the world reverts to darkness and smoke. He and Fugaku appear in the rubble of the Rashōmon gate and Ōnoki stumbles in the sky, quickly catching himself with his light-weight technique.

“What in the hells?” Ōnoki repeats, shaking his head.

What, indeed. Orochimaru spares a glance down at the golden reed in his hand—it’s still real. He folds it up and tucks it into his tool pouch. If he survives this encounter, he would very much like to analyze it.

“No matter.” Ōnoki says, sluggishly forming another drill shaped particle beam with his right hand. “It won’t matter what it was when I turn you and the young Uchiha into dust.”

Orochimaru picks up Fugaku and prepares to flicker away, only to be brought up short by a pair of stone spikes piercing through one foot and the other leg’s calf muscle. He gasps and nearly falls forward onto another spike.

He clamps his jaw and yanks his foot off the nail-like spike. He makes eye contact with the younger Iwa-nin who dared to pin him and bares his teeth as he breaks the other spike off at the base and rips it out of his leg.

The young man flees and Orochimaru grits his teeth as bright white line shines on him. He lifts Fugaku above his shoulders and heaves him across the clearing. 

Better concussed than dust.

His calf muscle spasms and blood flows freely from the gaping wound. Orochimaru drops to his knees, chakra exhaustion creeping up on him fast. His vision swims and he shakes his head, dust encrusted hair swinging limply. He’s will _not_ die today—he’ll crawl or slither if he has to. He doesn’t want to _die!_

“Sensei!”

_No._

…

_No!_

Honōka leaps in front of him, and he reaches for her, missing her hand. Ōnoki’s Dust Release hits its critical point and the jutsu activates. She raises her arms and he watches Ōnoki’s eyes widen, lips moving in an oath that the sizzle of the particle beam drowns out.

He doesn’t have time to push her away. He doesn’t even have time to pray for a miracle.

The drill shaped light hits her square in the chest—or it should, but doesn’t.

Instead, the light from Ōnoki’s Dust Release warps and scatters, then is sucked into a minute point somewhere in front of Honōka.

The darkness after the scorching light is blinding, and the outline of his student is strangely gray. Ōnoki hovers in the air high above them, grimacing as the moonlight casts a silver sheen on his white hair.

“Honōka…?”

His student says nothing to him, her heaving breath the only sound in the clearing made in the wake of destruction. 

Then she doubles over, hugging herself about the navel, her lower dantian—the _seventh gate._

“Honōka!” He chokes on his next words and tries to stand up. Something is wrong. “Honōka…!”

He’s not a true sensor, but he’s trained his chakra sensitivity enough that he can feel her chakra spinning dangerously out of control. He reasons she must have attempted to absorb Ōnoki’s jutsu into her liminal space. But, without a sealed space for the energy to go, as with Kushina and the Kyūbi—that energy will tear apart the space that cannot contain it.

A perfectly round circle of light, about the size of his fist, appears on her back and navel.

“No, _no!_ —”

A flash of light and a spear made of pure white pierces her abdomen.

**_BANG!_ **

A crack of thunder that tastes like ozone and blood. The light fades and his student falls back.

He lurches forward on his hands and knees and catches her. Her body is limp, and a whine catches in the back of his throat as he pushes her bangs out of her eyes. Her ever so faint luminescence has faded.

“Honōka…!” He’s beyond forming coherent thoughts, let alone sentences. Her blood is pooling on his lap from the open hole in her gut, bile and other viscera slipping onto the ground around his knees.

The whine makes its way out of his throat as a scream that shreds his throat raw, until his voice breaks and no more sound will release. He hugs her lifeless body to his chest. Tears stream down his face and a choked sob bubbles up, but remains locked in his chest. He forgot how to cry a long time ago.

Orochimaru is vaguely aware of Ōnoki landing on the ground in front of them, but does not lift his head to defiantly stare his death in the face. He’s always been a coward on that front. A shameless killer that fears death more than anything else—what a contradiction.

“Tsuchikage-sama…” The woman cautions. “The severed head of a snake can still bite.”

“I know, Teruka. It’s my duty to dispose of him now, or else Konohagakure no Orochi truly will become a demon snake.”

Ōnoki brandishes a kunai and Orochimaru curls over the body of his first and last student. He considers begging Ōnoki to make it swift, so he can join her in the afterlife sooner, and to bury him next to his student in an unmarked grave—or cremate them, or even make them dust with his kekkei tōta.

He does not want Danzō desecrating Honōka’s body.

Then, despite the pain in his legs and the fatigue in his bones, and his acceptance of his imminent death, he leaps back.

Shadow Imitation Technique.

“Nara!” He roars. “Leave me be! I—I… this… I am done…! This is my end.”

“Bullshit! You’re Orochimaru, the Snake Hidden in the Leaves, a Densetsu no Sannin!” Shikaku’s voice is thick with emotion. “I can’t let you die. This war… The Leaf needs you.”

Chōza pops out of the ground scarcely a meter away from Ōnoki and scoops up Honōka with his expanded hand, cradling her like tiny, broken, doll. Shikaku’s Kagemane No Jutsu ends and he collapses like a puppet with its strings cut.

“I moved Fugaku to point A.” Chōza whispers. “What now, Shikaku?”

“…”

Ōnoki sighs.

“Take the Uchiha—and take the child’s body—I don’t care. But leave the demon snake. Can’t you tell when a man wants to die?”

Shikaku clears his throat. “Sorry—we Konoha-nin don’t get to pick and choose when we roll over and die.”

Ōnoki snorts. 

“Is that how Konohagakure creates so many of their demons? By carving away the autonomy of its shinobi until nothing is left but an empty husk for a vengeful demon to occupy?”

Shikaku swallows.

“You only have to look at your First Hokage—look at what he made his wife become; look at what his blood brother and sworn friend became—demons that raged until their last breaths. Senju Tobirama the Shiroyasha and Uchiha Madara, the Ghost of the Uchiha. And now that fool Sarutobi emulates them in the name of peace. Bah! There can be no peace while you fools support that oni you call daimyō.”

_**< <Ȍ̶̹ ̴̳̪̾n̷̹̝̾͑ ̸̞͛̀ḯ̸̝̩̊ ̵͕̜̃?̸̖͕̋>>** _

A chill of killing intent creeps around them, choking the breath out of them all.

_< <Onī-san… Onī-san… **Ò̴̞̌͂ ̸̲̊̋̄ñ̴̫͔ ̵͚̩̈́̈́i̴̦̓͜ ̸͈̺̂͘?̷̩̻͒̌̕** …?>>_

Chōza drops Honōka and he almost shrieks at him—but the flesh on Chōza's hand is scored off—and Honōka’s entire body is smoking.

He thinks someone has planted the Curse of Immolation on her—but there is no glow from the jutsu burning through her veins—and dead bodies do not explode.

The black smoke engulfs her, and her body rises from the ground, her silhouette undefined. The killing intent thickens.

“Honōka—” How, what— _why?_ Orochimaru looks through her gaping stomach and every muscle in his body locks up. 

Terror seizes him as the black smoke thickens around her, like a coat several sizes too big for her flickering form. A hood with two peaks, like ears, obscures her face. He struggles to breathe.

_**< <Ichi-nī-nī—Ichi-nī-s-s-san… Ichi, ni, s-san, s-s-shi-shi-Shi-S̷̞̩̉ ̷̹͎́Ḫ̸͗̓ ̵̻̫̉̈́I̴̱͗̎ ̶͇̏N̵̲͆ ̸̨̹̿͝Ī̶͇̮̊ ̸̟̓̏!̴̢͈̈́͐“Why won’t you just die!?”>>** _

The younger Iwa-nin collapses, eyes rolling into the back of his head. Chōza falls back and clutches his ears, whimpering.

He can’t move. The killing intent is _that_ strong—a palpable thing that has Shikaku kneeling and hyperventilating.

**_< <Ichi-nī, I’m afraid of the dark. Ichi-nī—let me out, I’ll be a g̶̡͚̱̙̦̬̋ͅ ̷̨̨̥͌̈́o̵̝̬̠͈̣̿̑̍͊̔ ̵̡̝̦̳̽̈́͒͋o̷͕͕͙̅ ̴͙̹̼̮̫̦̋͑̃̅̾̎̈́d̴̨̨̥̠͚͓̗̔̕ girl! I promise—! “Why don’t you just disappear?!”>>_ **

The body of his student flails around, clawing at the smoke covering her body. Dull white skin, like broken pottery, shows through in places.

_< <~Kagome, Kagome~ Tomoe, who’s that behind you? D̵̞͐ ̶͙̇̓͛ā̷̮̤̀ ̶̝̳̜͝͠r̷̢̖̈̎ ̷̜̊̍͂ȇ̵̬ͅ ̶̪̍̒-̸̙̹̔̋̏ ̷̡̃̃ḍ̶̽̌ ̴̫̞͐̋e̷̟̓͗ ̸͎͎̱̽͋͂s̸͎̑ ̴̢͌̾ǘ̴̦̪ ̷̺̍͆k̴̨͕̟͑̑ ̷̯̲̌̌ã̴͚̗̆?̷̧̦̌>>_

Shikaku dry heaves.

**_< <Itai! Itai!—It hurts! Please stop—I’ll be a g̵̱̹̦͐̊̈̚͝ ̵̡̳̙̭̈͒̈́ò̷͕̱̓̕ ̸͎̺̻̅̔ȏ̷̡͍̤͓͋̐͋ ̸̥̝̜͖͌̄͠d̶͖͍̜͎̀͂̚̕͘ girl, I promise, Otō-sama…Otō-sama, please!>>_ **

“What the hell is that _thing,_ Tsuchikage-sama?” The woman asks, near breathless in her fear.

Ōnoki grits his teeth. 

“A fabricated demon, no doubt.”

 _< <~I’ve found it, my Lord!~>>_ A voice that is _not_ Honōka’s sings. She digs her hands into her face, pulling out more smoke. _< <~The fiery chariot, I’ve found/ Words are as the housing of the soul/ Words are as the existence of the gods/ Sounds are as the meaning of curses!~>> _

The Iwa-nin throws a kunai with an explosive tag at his Honōka and he opens his mouth. No sound comes out.

The tag explodes, and the explosion is absorbed into the hollow space where her navel should be, disappearing completely. Honōka’s body continues fidgeting with the smoke shroud. Scratching? 

Honōka does that when something makes her uncomfortable—and when she feels pain.

“Stop…” He whispers, desperately forcing air into his lungs.

_< <~Oh my, what is this? This is strange!/ I’ve brought the fiery chariot with me/ Surely, surely/ But instead I found Momotarō!/ The child of the gods, who defeated the gods!~>> _

She continues scratching, ripping out pieces of her hood that resemble long strands of hair before dissolving as wisps of smoke. 

“Stop…!” 

The Iwa-nin forms a single hand seal and slaps her hand to the ground. The earth splits and the shadowed form of his student drops into the crevice, which seals shut with a loud bang.

“Stop!” He shouts, voice hoarse from screaming earlier. “Stop, stop—” can’t they see she’s in pain?!

The earth rumbles.

_**“̴̟̍Ą̴̓̐ͅr̷̘̍̇r̶̼̪̞̽R̴͖̍̇r̸͈͗ȓ̵ͅG̷̳̳̝͊̐̚r̶͍̫̾ṙ̸̢̻h̵̹̜͉͘h̷̖͛͠h̵͔͔̒͌h̷̞̪̳̏̅Ḩ̷͍̥̾!̵͈̗͍̾”̷̡̛̗͕̿̇ ̵͓̘̇͘** _

_**< <~However, however/ It doesn’t end there/ This one’s true identity could even be Shuten-dōji!~>>** _

“Teruka!”

Ōnoki grabs her by the arm and the unconscious nin by the scruff, turning them weightless and lifting them up into the sky as spidery black velvet limbs erupt from the ground.

She crawls out of the ground on all fours, elongated limbs retracting into the smoky coat-like shroud. She looks up and howls, voice blood curdling, and rips at the empty space of her face again. 

The ‘hood’ tears, and she pulls and pulls until it thins. Her digging, scratching, hands toss something aside, and his eyes follow it to where it hits the ground with a metallic clang.

Honōka’s hitai-ate.

_**< <~Dōji, do you miss your mother?/ Dōji, do you hate being discarded by your father?/ Yearning, yearning/ “Mother, I want to meet you.”/ “Mother’s Love” makes the child a demon!~>>** _

The hood melts away from her assault, revealing only more indeterminate shadows in the vague caricature of his student’s hairstyle. Two black horns stick up, short and slightly curved, nearly hidden in her floating hair. 

Pure red eyes open in the featureless space where her face should be.

_**< <~Sure, surely/ A poor child, a pitiable child/ Surely, Surely/ Moreover, the baby is the child of a god/ Having an eye for seeing through anything/ That god is Gozuryū/ I gave him the means to seal those eyes!~>>** _

Ōnoki hits her with another Dust Release.

“Just, stop!” He shouts. “Stop…! Honōka, please, stop! It’s enough—you’ve done enough… Enough is _enough!”_

He doesn’t have the strength to get to his feet, so he drags himself across the ground.

The white light she absorbs from Ōnoki’s Dust Release swirls and then disappears. Black spears erupt from her body and Ōnoki is forced to swerve and dive, dropping the other two Iwa-nin on the ground as he does.

He charges Honōka, and grits his teeth, raising both injured arm and non-injured arm to form the cubical variant that doubles as a barrier.

“No! Don’t!”

He would beg if it meant Ōnoki would stop.

The cube surrounds Honōka and grows brighter, and then the core ignites. Even contained, the explosion is deafening.

“…”

_**< <Ojī-chan… I’m sorry. I should have listened to you. I’m sorry… I’m sorry. I left you all â̴̤ ̸̻l̷͕̉ ̶̱͝o̷̯̐ ̸͛ͅn̷̫͑ ̷̳̅ẽ̶͕. I’m sorry, Ojī-chan…>>** _

A hand print glows on the wall of the barrier, and Ōnoki lands and takes a shaky step closer.

“Tōka-chan?” His voice wobbles. “Is that you, granddaughter of mine?”

_**< <Ojī-chan…? Are you l̶̥̹̈́ ̷̰̑ŏ̸̯̦̏ ̴̩̼͠n̸̪̅ ̸̘̊ͅȇ̶͙ ̴̞̙͋ļ̵͔͋̌ ̷̥̪̂y̸̠̒? I’ll come visit you every day, so you won’t be l̷o̴n̷e̸l̴y̷! Okā-san might not be around anymore but I am! Please don’t cry, Ojī-chan…I’m still here…>>** _

Ōnoki drops to his knees and sobs, holding trembling hands up to the heavens.

“Tōka-chan, oh, Tōka-chan! What have I done?!” Ōnoki releases the barrier and the dust from the explosion lingers.

A small black hand reaches out.

“Tsuchikage-sama!” Teruka screams. “That’s not your granddaughter! Don’t let it touch you!”

The hand hovers close to his cheek, almost hesitantly, and Ōnoki leans into it. He doesn’t flinch as it burns the skin off his face.

Teruka flickers to his side and grabs him by the collar, wrenching him away. He doesn’t react as she turns and flickers to the unconscious Iwa-nin, grabbing him and disappearing as fast as she can while carrying two listless shinobi.

Dawn breaks over the horizon and the first rays of sunshine wash over them. His little shadow makes a _cheerful_ noise as the light cuts through her shadow.

_< <~Gozuryū's moment to avenge the splendid child!~>>_

_< <~Medetashi, Medetashi…!~>> _‘All is well that ends well.’

The shadow abruptly disappears, and Honōka falls flat on her face. He forces himself to crawl on his hands and knees, bearing the pain it sends through his leg and foot.

“Honōka!”

No response.

He kneels over her, forcing the dregs of his chakra to perform the Mystical Palm Technique. It disengages on his own when he stares at the hole in her abdomen—or rather the hole in her armor and coat.

Her stomach is completely healed; a perfectly white ring around her navel and the blood and entrails still clinging to his knees the only proof that he did not imagine her bleeding out on him.

He checks her pulse, just to be certain.

She lives. He laughs and lies down next to her, and laughs some more.

They’re not dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kunitsukami are the gods of Ashihara/Japan that existed/ruled over the land, rather than ruling from the heavens like the amatsukami. Ashihara no Shikō is also known as Okuninushi-no-kami who was the head/leader/king of the kunitsukami. Ashihara no Shikō means ugly man/young warrior of the reed plains. 
> 
> The song/chant I used is from the anime Amatsuki that I was weirdly obsessed with when I was like, thirteen. It's an OST called [Shuten Dōji no Uta](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DpSFz0zjN20), so all credit goes to Amatsuki and the OST and all that. However, I could not find an English translation for it so I did my best and translated it myself. It's not an exact translation by any means. Also, I substituted the name Gozuryū in, since it makes more sense for _this_ story. (Which probably isn't making a whole lot of sense to anyone at the moment...) The song mentions that the god who is the father is Raikō/Yorimitsu, who is the samurai/deified hero that slew Shuten-dōji.
> 
> Also, from 'Kagome Kagome' that I used before, yoake no ban ni/in the dawn of night is an interesting way of saying something is uncertain, because it can't dawn if it's still night/night does not dawn. 
> 
> It reminds me of the word tasogare, which means twilight/dusk, and also means when something is uncertain, because tasokare is a way of inquiring who you're speaking to, kind of thing. When it's dark it's difficult to see who you're speaking to, so tasokare became tasogare/twilight/dusk.
> 
> And twilight/dusk/nighttime in general is associated with yōkai...yeah.


	70. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You have dirt on your nose. Wash properly.”
> 
> “…It’s a tan line…” Kakashi says, rubbing his face.
> 
> “If it were, you would not have smudged it just now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No explanations, yet! I really needed a chapter to decompress!

They do not have to wait long for help to arrive. Uchiha Yoshino and Fujihara Tsubasa arrive, Inoichi hobbling after them with a crutch and Akimichi Torifu hovering behind him.

“Where’s my cousin?” Yoshino demands.

Chōza clears his throat. “Over there.” He gestures. “He was unconscious but still breathing when I moved him.”

She wordlessly goes in the direction he pointed and Tsubasa moves to Chōza’s side.

“What happened to your hand?”

“…I don’t know.”

Torifu rumbles at his nephew. “It looks like it was dissolved, or dissembled. Ōnoki’s Dust Release?”

Chōza shakes his head slowly and points to him and his student with his chin.

“Can you shrink your hand back down or will that affect the wound?” Tsubasa asks.

“I can—but it’ll start bleeding again when I do.”

Torifu pulls out some gauze and bandages. “Do it. It don’t look too deep. I can handle it myself, Tsubasa. Go check on Orochimaru and Honōka-chan.”

“What about Shikaku?” Chōza asks.

“He looks fine.” Torifu says.

“I’m really not.” Shikaku responds, face in his hands. Inoichi limps over to him.

“Are you injured?”

“…” Shikaku exhales, shakily. “No, I’m not, somehow.”

“Right,” Tsubasa says. “Honōka and Orochimaru-san, then.”

He heads over to him and his student. He takes one look at his bloodied legs and starts on that. Orochimaru permits it, if only because having his legs working again will make it easier to carry his student.

Tsubasa strips off the blood stained compression bandages and washes the drying blood and viscera off his legs with a simple water gathering and purifying technique. The spike in his right foot went through the first and second metatarsals so there is no bone damage to mend, which reduces the time spent healing him.

“How’s your cousin, Yoshino?” Tsubasa calls, finishing with his calf muscle.

“Concussed and exhausted, but otherwise fine.” She summarizes and jogs over to them, leaving Fugaku on the ground without a care. “What about Honōka? How is the surgical incision holding up? Did it rupture? She really shouldn’t have been running around with it.”

“Orochimaru-san says she’s fine.” 

Yoshino scowls. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

He hauls himself into a sitting position, cross-legged. He’d kneel, but the tears in his calf muscle are only barely meshed together. Tsunade’s talents have clearly spoiled his expectations of medical ninjutsu. 

Yoshino takes one look at the hole in Honōka’s armor and swears.

“What the fuck happened, Orochimaru?”

Tsubasa makes a scolding noise at Yoshino that verges on panic. He’s one of those fools who quiver at the thought of upsetting him. Orochimaru rolls his eyes.

Yoshino ignores him and uses a diagnostic jutsu and inspects Honōka’s abdomen. Her eyebrows scrunch together in concentration.

“It’s… gone.”

“Healed?” Tsubasa asks, curious despite his nervousness.

“No—gone; like it never happened.”

She focuses on her examination for another moment, before letting the technique end.

“She looks fine,” Yoshino agrees. “But I think someone more experienced—” Tsunade, “should look at her.”

He nods and picks up his student, carefully supporting her head in the crook of his arm. She doesn’t stir.

“What of Minato and Kakashi?”

Tsubasa and Yoshino share a look. Yoshino elbows him and Tsubasa coughs.

“…Minato is fine. Exhausted—like we all are—but his collapsed lung has been treated and he will recover with no lasting damages… Most likely.”

Orochimaru does not like repeating himself, especially not to dithering fools. He raises an eyebrow and Tsubasa swallows.

“Because of Kakashi-kun’s injuries, we had to sedate him when Honōka-kun went AWOL.”

He doesn’t know whether he should laugh or be concerned; injuries? And of course they had to sedate him if Honōka suddenly ran off on him—nothing short of being physically restrained or knocked unconscious would have stopped Kakashi from going after her.

“His injury?" He asks, instead.

“Perforated abdominal cavity from debris cast by an explosion. No organs were damaged.” Yoshino replies.

Good heavens. His team is in rough shape.

Orochimaru blinks. _His_ team. Until just now, he has only ever considered Tsunade and Jiraiya as being ‘his team’, _his_ teammates. How odd. He shakes his head.

“I believe this border skirmish is over, for the moment.” He says. “Where is the KBP retreating to?”

“Muramura no Sato.” 

Village-village Village…? He scoffs, and Yoshino rolls her eyes, a small smile curling on her lips. It’s ridiculous.

“It’s a farming community to the southwest. Torifu negotiated space for everyone there.”

He nods. “Very well. Get up, Shikaku. We’re leaving this god forsaken battlefield.”

Minato and Kakashi have already been accommodated in a small storage shed. A metal brazier has been provided and filled with hot coals; and four threadbare futons laid out in the corner. He’s genuinely surprised by the hospitality of the village.

The last time he stayed in a village after a battle—during the second war—the provisions had been an empty stall and straw mats. This is a very welcome upgrade. 

The moment he enters the shed, Minato and Kakashi struggle to get up. Yoshino yells at them both.

“Sit down, boys!”

Minato reluctantly complies, leaning back against a bale of hay, and Kakashi glowers at her. Ah—Yoshino must have been the one who dared sedate him, Orochimaru thinks. How very brave of her.

Yoshino helps him lay Honōka down onto the thickest of the two available futons and then leaves. She still has to find a place for Fugaku.

“I’m so sorry, Orochimaru-san.” Minato apologizes. “I should have stayed with you—”

“You were injured.”

“I shouldn’t have gotten injured in the first place!”

Orochimaru sighs.

“I am not in the mood to listen to pointless apologies, Minato. It is unnecessary.” He goes over to the water basin and picks up the ladle, taking a deep drink. “Did any of your storage scrolls survive this mess?”

Kakashi point to the scrolls without taking his eyes off Honōka. He looks torn between being relieved to see her in one piece and being angry with her.

“Good. I am changing, and then I am sleeping for two hours. Wake me up if anything changes with Honōka’s condition.”

Two hours stretches into four, four hours become eight, and then twelve hours have passed.

“Orochimaru-sensei,” Minato whispers. “Yukimura-san, the man who owns this shed is asking if we’d like to use his family’s bath.”

He grunts and rolls over. Honōka is still asleep; motionless, save for her light breathing.

“Orochimaru-san…?”

“Don’t be so meek, Minato.” He retorts. “And yes; I would very much like a bath. You and Kakashi should go first. I will watch over Honōka until you return.”

“Okay, Sensei.” Minato says. Cheeky. “Come on, Kakashi. I’ll help you wash your back.”

“…I don’t need a bath. I’m staying.”

Orochimaru snorts.

“You do not need to get in the bath—but you do need to wash yourself. It smells foul in here.”

Minato winces. “It does, doesn’t it?”

“It’s you that stinks.” Kakashi grumbles at him, but lets Minato lead him to the shed door.

“I know. I will take my bath when you both return.”

Kakashi is satisfied with that and leaves with Minato.

He takes a deep breath and assesses his chakra reserves. It’s scarcely recovered since the morning, but there is enough to run the Mystical Palm Technique and its diagnostic variation. He weaves the seals and reaches over, hand hovering over Honōka’s forehead.

Relief punches him in the chest. She’s alive. His student really is alive. Her brain activity is normal, or what he would expect from someone in a deep, restorative sleep.

He feared, for a moment, that she may have been in an unresponsive state. Happily, that is not the case.

He settles back in his futon and closes his eyes. The door creaks and he tenses.

“Just me.” Yoshino grunts. She’s carrying a large bucket of steaming water and a washcloth. “Fugaku saw Minato and Kakashi heading to Yukimura-san’s bath and decided to go with them. Can you get out—and probably go with them? You stink and Honōka needs some maintenance too.”

Maintenance? He snorts and stands up, then freezes. He suddenly realizes that he does _not_ want to leave his student alone.

Yoshino sense his dilemma. “It’s barely twenty meters away, Orochimaru. I’ll even stay here until you or one of your students get back.”

“…”

“Well?”

“Let _nothing_ happen to my student while I am gone, Uchiha.”

Yoshino scoffs.

“I won’t. Now get lost. You smell like a slaughterhouse.”

He finds the baths. It’s the attached building to the large home of the Yukimura family. Smoke billows out of the chimney from the running boilers despite the late hour.

He enters and nearly runs into Kakashi—who is attempting to escape in a yukata that is many times too large for him. Minato is just catching up, towel wrapped around his waist.

“Kakashi, get back in here!” Minato wheezes.

“Who’s with Honōka?” Kakashi demands.

“Yoshino.” He answers. “You have dirt on your nose. Wash properly.”

“…It’s a tan line…” Kakashi says, rubbing his face.

“If it were, you would not have smudged it just now.”

Kakashi screws up his nose, but turns around. Minato follows him back into the bath and Orochimaru undresses in the changing room, shaking out his dusty clothes as best as he can. There are several towels and yukata laid out, and he is once again surprised at the hospitality of their host.

He walks into the bath, finding Kakashi and Fugaku locked in an intense starring contest.

“I swear, kid, if you don’t stop glaring at me, I’m going to turn on my Sharingan and memorize your ugly mug just to piss you off more.”

Minato is attempting to wash Kakashi’s hair for him, since he has no intention of cleaning it himself, and despite the foaming soap in Minato’s hands, the silver hair refuses to lather.

He rolls his eyes at them and takes a stool, a bucket, and a washcloth, and sits at a shower stall. The water pressure is low but the temperature is plenty hot. His numb toes protest the temperance difference.

He glances at the puckered star-shaped scar on Kakashi’s side. It’s healed now, on the surface, but he knows it still pains Kakashi a great deal. He must see about having Tsunade double check Kakashi's wound as well.

Minato seems to have gotten off the lightest—with a collapsed lung. They really had a rough go of it.

Kakashi rinses his hair before Minato can do it for him and gets up to scamper off. He grabs him by the elbow as he’s passing and turns him around.

“Get in the bath.”

“But Honōka—”

“Is being watched over by Yoshino. Get in the bath, Kakashi.”

He grumbles but does as he is bid. Minato chuckles and works on his own hair.

Fugaku is done washing but waits for them to finish, if only to avoid having Kakashi glare at him for intruding on his privacy, again.

“How is Honōka? Yoshino told me she jumped in on the fight last minute, but no one will tell me what happened after.”

“Honōka is fine.” He says. “Something rather… odd… happened, but she is fine.”

Minato and Fugaku look at each other.

“You’re leaving out a story and a half, aren’t you, Orochimaru?” Fugaku accuses.

He rinses the suds from his hair and starts again. The grayish color of the water is simply unacceptable. Long hair can be such a pain to clean.

“Right…” Minato says. “Maybe we should talk about this later?”

Fugaku sighs. “Alright. I still feel like I could sleep for another day anyhow—and eye drops, _fuck,_ I want eye drops.”

Minato snorts back a laugh.

“Eye drops? You sound like an old man, Fugaku-san!”


	71. Hero of Kusanagi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Does anyone here _actually_ know what the fuck that _thing_ was?”
> 
> He opens his mouth to tell the Nara to watch his tongue, but Kakashi beats him to it.
> 
> “Shut up, Catnap! Honōka is not a _thing!”_

He eats, and he sleeps, but does so with an anxious sort of trepidation. Honōka does not wake up that night, or before noon the next day. Orochimaru considers his options, and has Kakashi tract down Fugaku. 

He doesn’t expect them, or plan for them, to be ambushed by the Inoshikachō trio. Kakashi and Fugaku unfortunately return with said three teenagers in tow. 

“Alright—spill.” Shikaku demands. “What the hell is sealed inside ‘Tsunemori’ Honōka.”

Fugaku clears his throat, making flickering eye contact with him. “This one might be hard to explain, and harder to avoid explaining, Orochimaru. A lot of people… _felt_ whatever it was she did. The killing intent—and something else. The good new is, most people think it was you, and that you singlehandedly defeated Ōnoki.”

Oh dear.

“It’s to our benefit for that rumor to spread.” Shikaku agrees. “It makes it harder for Danzō to move against you if everyone starts calling you the Hero of Kusanagi. But I want the truth—because I was there and that was _not_ natural.”

He snorts. They’re calling him what now? A hero? Should he tell Jiraiya and have him write an atrocious fictitious account of his life? Orochimaru spurns the errant thought. 

“How far could the killing intent be felt from?”

Shikaku scowls at him.

“Several kilometers,” Inoichi replies. “Sensors felt it more acutely than non-sensors, and some people didn’t feel it all.”

Curious.

“And does anyone realize that the killing intent was not actually coming from me?”

“I don’t think so.” Inoichi bites his lip. “It didn’t feel like Honōka. It didn’t even feel human…”

He narrows his eyes at Inoichi.

“What did it feel like? Or your closest estimation, if you prefer.”

Minato and Kakashi share a look. They heard the subtle threat in his words, even if no one else did.

Inoichi frowns. “It was…kind of indescribable. I knew it was killing intent, but at the time it felt like it was _more_ than killing intent. A feeling of intense dread saturated the air, and for a moment I felt like the world was ending. I couldn’t muster up the strength to even twitch a finger until after it passed… I thought the King of Hell himself was coming for me.”

He wants to be angry at Inoichi for calling his student inhuman. But, he remembers there was a point where he struggled to breathe and could not find his voice as well. He’d assumed the crippling dread he had felt was that of having witnessed his student die and then the horror of seeing her body rise up as a shade.

Shikaku swears.

“Does anyone here _actually_ know what the fuck that _thing_ was?”

He opens his mouth to tell the Nara to watch his tongue, but Kakashi beats him to it.

“Shut up, Catnap! Honōka is not a _thing!”_

Minato nods, blue eyes cold and sharp. “Check yourself before you speak, Nara Shikaku. Regardless of what may or may not exist inside Honōka-chan, she is our teammate and precious friend.”

“…” Shikaku glares. “You weren’t there or even conscious, Minato. You didn’t see her—you didn’t _hear_ her.”

“That’s true.” Minato agrees. “But I know Honōka-chan, and I know she would never willingly let herself be controlled by another power.”

“ _’The child of the gods, who defeated the gods!’_.” Shikaku quotes. “ _’It doesn’t end there/ This one’s true identity could even be Shuten Dōji!’_.”

Minato and Kakashi glance at Orochimaru, frowning. Perhaps he should have told them _some_ of what went on that night, for context purposes if nothing else.

“Honōka has expressed her fear of being labeled an oni before.” He says. “That does not mean she is one.”

“Tori-ji said Honōka could walk and talk very early, and that she was scarily intelligent even as a toddler.” Chōza mumbles.

Orochimaru scowls. Sachiko must have opened up to her father-in-law a great deal after Shinku was born.

Minato and Kakashi also know that she was literally born with the knowledge of a fifteen-year-old—making her eerily similar to the Shuten Dōji of legend—a child born with vastly superior strength and intelligence compared to other children. A child who was later discarded by their parents and walked the path to becoming an oni. Honōka’s life story does draw many parallels to the legend, unfortunately.

“I could quote more,” Shikaku offers. “That whole damn song is burned into my brain.”

Chōza hurriedly shakes his head. “Don’t, Shikaku…once was enough.”

“She died.” Shikaku says, instead. “Ōnoki’s Dust Release ripped a hole clean through her and she died. Then something else leaked out and took control. Explain that to me.”

Minato gasps and Kakashi glares back at him. He _should_ have prepared them for that.

“I want answers and I want them now.” Shikaku crosses his arms and clenches his fists. “If the Nara Clan is going to be working with you monsters, I want a goddamn explanation—and an assurance that whatever the fuck possessed Tsunemori Honōka is not a threat to Konoha, or to me and mine.”

Orochimaru clenches his jaw and Minato lets out a long and shaky breath.

“Honōka-chan is not going to be happy with us when she wakes up, is she?”

“We’re telling them?” Kakashi asks, nose screwing up behind his mask. “They’re not even p—” 

Kakashi glances at Fugaku and Orochimaru raises an eyebrow at the boy. Kakashi has not missed the fact that Honōka actually likes Uchiha Fugaku.

 _“…They’re_ not even friends with Honōka,” he says, subtly pointing his chin at the trio. “And we’re going to tell them her secret?”

“So there is something…” Inoichi murmurs while biting a hangnail. “I knew it.”

Shikaku re-crosses his arms. “Well?”

He takes a calming breath in and lets it out slowly. Unfortunately, they decided to ally themselves with the Inoshikachō triad, and that means they cannot afford to leave them in the dark any longer.

“My student has lived life once before, already.”

“…”

 _“What?”_ Shikaku hisses. “That’s it? She told you she’s what, the reincarnation of some historical figure? And you believed her?”

Fugaku clears his throat. “From what she has told me, it’s more likely that she was no one important. She wasn’t even a shinobi.”

Kakashi nods.

“Honōka does _insist_ she was no one special in her last life. However, the snakes of Ryūchi Cave consistently refute that by calling her many names and titles.” He says. “Daughter of Gozuryū is the preferred title.”

“Which fits—” Chōza says. “The song, Shikaku. It, she— _whatever_ or _whoever_ that voice was coming from, it said she was the child of Gozuryū.”

“So the snakes are calling her the child of a god of calamity.” Shikaku snorts. “That’s _so_ reassuring.”

Minato frowns. “I’m sorry, did I miss something, Orochimaru-sensei? I thought she was supposed to be the child of Benten?”

He nods. “Lady born of all things flowing is the snake’s next preferred title.”

“ _’”Mother’s Love”’ makes the child an oni!’_ ” Shikaku mutters. “If the mother is Benzaiten, and the father is Gozuryū, why the hell would she be an oni in the first place?”

“The mother she yearns for is not Benzaiten, but the mother she never knew from her previous life.” He replies. “She died when Honōka was a baby, and her father did not seem to have much interest in raising her.”

“…I thought her previous father was… _well_ , not like her current father?” Minato asks.

“He wouldn’t even tell her stories about her mother, Minato.” Kakashi says. “What kind of father does that?”

“I don’t know?” Minato shrugs. “I didn’t know either of my parents. Isn’t it normal to not want to talk about painful memories?”

“Not if it’s your own child asking.” Fugaku growls. “Once you become a father, a parent, it is your duty to answer any questions your child might have—especially if it’s about the parent they didn’t get to know. That stuff matters to kids.”

“Oh.” Minato scratches the back of his head. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense.”

"How many parents does Honōka even have?" Inoichi asks. "Six? Is that the number we're working with here??"

Shikaku facepalms.

“We are so far off topic right now… And I really don’t care about Honōka’s fucked up family history.”

“You should.” Fugaku snipes.

“What I care about is the shadow creature that literally exploded out of the hole in her gut and wrapped itself around her dead body like a second skin. It disintegrated everything it touched—people, jutsu, maybe even the air itself.” Shikaku snaps. “Does no one care that whatever possessed Honōka was impervious to a Kage-level opponent?!”

“And?” Minato asks. “Kushina can be a Kage-level opponent, on a really bad day.”

“That’s true, Shikaku.” Inoichi says. “Why are you making such a fuss about one more monster in the world? It’s not like it matters if there are nine or ten Bijū.”

“It matters!” Shikaku yells. “It matters because there are nine and they were given to specific countries as a means of keeping the peace. What happens if rumors spread and the other countries think we’ve broken the agreement and stolen one back—or that we’ve created an entirely new one?!”

Kakashi frowns. “There are more of those Bijū things? Besides Kushina-nē’s Tenko-sama?”

Minato nods. “Nine, like Inoichi said.”

He frowns harder. “And what agreement? It must not be that important if it’s already been broken.”

Orochimaru cackles and the Inoshikachō trio freeze. 

“Indeed, Kakashi—an unimportant agreement made by the First Hokage as a desperate bid to secure peace in uncertain times. An agreement secured by offering the other nations weapons of mass destruction to discourage each nation from invading another.”

“…But no one uses those weapons, right? Kushina-nē _can’t_ use Tenko-sama.”

Minato nods. “The Bijū are more or less chakra avatars of pure chaos and absolute destruction. Only the First Hokage and Madara were ever capable of harnessing their power in a controlled manner.” 

Shikaku leans against the wall of the shed and pulls on his ponytail, clearly frustrated.

“So, no one here knows what happened to Honōka with any level of surety? And, as far as those closest to her can say—” he looks Orochimaru straight in the eyes, “no kinjutsu or other forbidden techniques were involved? Honōka is just plain weird, all on her own?”

He scoffs at the Nara and brushes off his accusation. “That is correct.”

“I suppose she probably knows more about whatever the hell happened.” He says. “You expecting her to wake up anytime soon?”

“That is what I had Kakashi collect Fugaku for.” He replies. “She is well, but deeply unconscious. I was going to request him to use his Sharingan to peer into her subconscious mind.”

Fugaku pushes off the wall and goes to sit by Honōka’s side.

“I’m not even sure it’ll work. I can sometimes see a flicker of what’s happening in her subconscious mind, especially when she’s molding it or shifting it around—but it mostly feels like it’s shielded, somehow.”

He looks to Inoichi.

“Don’t look at me—she dragged me in on her own last time.” Inoichi replies. “And it really is a _mess_ in there.”

Fugaku shrugs and opens her right eyelid, mitsudomoe Sharingan activating.

The lighting is very low in the shed, despite the time of day and the two oil lanterns they have lit. Her pupil expands, and the very faint luminescence once again glows. 

“It just looks…dark.” He pauses, then blinks a couple times. His Sharingan morphs into the the next stage and he squints. “It’s hard to tell. It just goes on and on—and even the Mangekyō isn’t affecting her.”

Ah-ha! It does have a name. He should check the Hokage's archives for any mention of it next time he's snooping in Sarutobi-sensei's office. 

“What about if you tried using it on her blind eye?” Kakashi suggests. “Since it’s damaged, maybe it’ll work?”

“Generally, you have to be able to see to be put under visual based genjutsu…” But Fugaku tries anyways. “…You’re a genius, kid.”

Kakashi rolls his eyes at him, but Orochimaru does not miss the pleased twinkle in his eyes.

Orochimaru kneels next to Fugaku, wincing at the tugging in his calf muscle. 

“Are you able to bring me along?” He asks.

Fugaku considers. “Probably. It’s just linking up minds.”

Inoichi makes an offended noise. _“Just_ linking up minds?”

Fugaku snorts at him and points to his eyes. “They’re literally called the eyes that reflect the heart, Inoichi. Don’t be jealous my dōjutsu does the same thing your clan took hundreds of years to perfect. Instead, you should be proud of what they were able to accomplish without a kekkei genkai hack.”

Chōza laughs. “I think that was a compliment, Inoichi. Who would have thought the Uchiha even knew how to give those.”

Fugaku opens his mouth to retort something else.

“Fugaku,” Orochimaru interrupts, “are you ready?”

“Right. Don’t move until I get there—okay? It’s freaking massive in there and if you get lost it’s gonna be a pain in the ass to find you.”

He arches an eyebrow at Fugaku and suddenly falls, weightless, into darkness—a pin prick of light rapidly disappearing into the distance as a crushing pressure sinks him through empty space faster than he thought possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are a lot of variations of the Shuten-dōji legend. The one I'm pulling most my details from is the Niigata Otogi Bunko version.
> 
> <https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shuten-d%C5%8Dji>


	72. ‘trigger’

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Tomoe-chan, why did you hit your classmates?” Her grandfather asks. He’s walking her home from her preschool after being called by the director about her 'naughty' behavior.
> 
> “…”

“Kagome, Kagome~” the children sing. “Kago no naka no tori wa/ Itsu, itsu, deyaru~” _The bird in the cage, when will it come out?_ “Yoake no ban ni/ Tsuru to kame ga subetta~” _In the night of dawn, the crane and the turtle slipped._ “Ushiro no shōmen daare!~”

Her classmates footsteps stop and they all stand in a circle around her, holding hands. Tomoe keeps her eyes covered tightly and they wait with bated breath and quiet giggles.

“Tomoe-chan, who’s behind you?” Her teacher prompts.

“Kanade-chan.”

“Eh! Sensei, Tomoe cheated! That’s the third time she got it on the first try!”

The teacher chuckles. “Next time, maybe everyone should vote for someone else to be the first oni? Tomoe-chan is getting very good at guessing who is behind her, no?”

“Good at cheating!” Someone whines.

Tomoe uncovers her eyes. “I’m not cheating! Kanade-chan is just _loud!”_

“Tomoe is a liar and an oni!” Kanade yells back. 

Tomoe tackles her classmate.

“Tomoe-chan, why did you hit your classmates?” Her grandfather asks. He’s walking her home from her preschool after being called by the director about her 'naughty' behavior.

“…”

“Tomoe-chan, I can’t understand you if you don’t tell me what happened. Why did you hit your classmates?”

“…They said I cheated, and called me a liar.” Tomoe rubs her nose in her sleeve. “Ojī-chan, I’m not an oni, right?”

Tomoe’s grandfather picks her up.

“You’re not an oni, Tomoe-chan.”

She sniffles and buries her face in her grandfather’s shoulder. 

“I didn’t cheat, Ojī-chan. I’m just really good at knowing who’s behind me.”

He chuckles, softly.

“You have a very good sense of intuition, Tomoe-chan.”

“'Intuition'? What’s that, Ojī-chan?”

“It means you know things without having to think about them. You just knew Kanade-chan was behind you, right?”

She nods.

“…Your mother was the same way. She was also ‘really good’ at knowing who was behind her, Tomoe-chan. No one could sneak up on your Okā-san, not even me!”

“…Yeah?” Tomoe sniffles. “I’m like Okā-san was?”

Her grandfather nods and strokes her long black hair. “You are a lot like your Okā-san.”

“…Otō-san says I look like _him.”_ Him. Her _other_ father.

“Tomoe-chan, you do _look_ very much like your birth father, but you _are_ just like your mother when she was your age.”

Tomoe’s lip wobbles and she hugs her grandfather around the neck.

“Can I sleep over tonight, Ojī-chan? I’ll be a good girl and go to bed early, I promise.”

“Tomoe-chan, you are always a good girl.”

Fugaku hauls him out of the pool of inky black water and Orochimaru reels for a moment, struggling to stand on the frothy surface of water that stretches as far as the eye can see.

“Probably should have warned you about that.” Fugaku mutters, patiently waiting for him to stop leaning against him.

He clears his throat, thick with emotion, and stands up straight. His nose is running. He hurriedly sniffs.

“What was that?” He whispers, voice raw.

Fugaku gestures all around them at the dark and empty expanse of nothing. Above them is a perfectly round sphere—a hazy black that somehow still glows in the darkness.

“Don’t fall into the water—it’s concentrated yin chakra. You’ll see uncontrolled visions of Honōka’s memories if you fall into it unprepared.”

“This is the ‘trigger’ Honōka speaks of?” He asks, staring at his reflection in the dark water, distorted by the air bubbles slowly floating up through the depths and breaking at the surface.

Fugaku nods.

“She’s been asking me how to control what she sees—but there’s really no controlling it when you sink in this deep. Not unless you’re a Yamanaka and know how to sort through everything. And as for Sharingan users—typically we avoid going this deep at all. It’s easier, and less dangerous, to just use genjutsu to bring specific memories to the surface.”

“…”

Fugaku looks around and points into the distance. “The chakra is densest over there. Let’s go.”

They start walking.

“When Honōka uses her dōjutsu, she enters the subconscious mind, or liminal space, of her target. This differs from the Sharingan's method?” He asks.

Fugaku shrugs. “Somewhat. The Sharingan can do what her Shinryūgan does—obviously, since we’re here now—but it does it in steps. I had to look into her mind—not her subconscious mind, but her…upper conscious?” He gestures. “Whatever. Basically, the Sharingan can find what bridges the gap between the mind and the heart and follow it to the soul, where both are one. That’s the subconscious mind.

“The Shinryūgan, from what I can tell, makes that bridge into a doorway—a nexus—that is visible at all times.”

He points up at the glowing orb of darkest black.

“I can’t normally see that—not unless I really concentrate. Inoichi thought it was odd too. He immediately recognized it as a doorway, but apparently he’s never seen one so clearly before.”

 _Having an eye for seeing through anything._ He recalls. “If the soul truly exists on a separate plane of existence, or in another dimension as Minato believes, then the Shinryūgan must see through the layers between the physical world we live in and the spiritual world that exists alongside us.”

Fugaku considers.

“Yeah—that might be it. Everyone has a soul, a connection to the spiritual world—so the nexus is probably the closest point of contact between the two.”

And his student can not only see those points, but travel freely between them.

Another thought strikes him.

“Fugaku, are you able to tell how fast time passes while we are here?”

“Generally, the closer you are to the surface, the faster time flows in here, and the slower it flows out there. The opposite is true as you go farther in, from what I can tell.”

“And are we going farther in?” Or staying close to the surface? He can’t tell.

“Yeah, I think so.”

Wonderful. “You think so? Honestly, Fugaku. Do not get us lost in here.”

Fugaku scowls at him.

“I’m pretty sure we’re heading for the center. Time should flow equally as fast in _here_ as it does out _there_ when we reach that point.”

“And how long will it take for us to reach that center point?”

Fugaku groans. “We’ll get there when we get there!—”

They both shout as an unseen force grabs onto them both and _pulls._ They go careening through the darkness and are just as roughly deposited onto a stone platform with a hollow center.

Orochimaru shields his eyes from the brightness of the levitating sphere they’ve been brought before. It takes a moment for him to adjust to the light, and when he does he lurches forward, only to be yanked back by Fugaku.

“Don’t touch it…! That’s probably a really bad idea, right now.”

He shakes Fugaku’s grip from his elbow, but doesn’t run for the sphere of clear blue water again, even if his student _is_ inside it.

Honōka floats in the center of the orb, legs curled up to her chest and arms hugging her knees. Her eyes are shut and her lips are slightly parted; a bubble of air escapes and a golden carp chases it to the top of the sphere—where a thin stream of water connects the brightly lit orb to the darkly glowing orb far above them.

Fugaku lets out a shaky breath.

“So, we’re here. Now what?”

“We wake her up, obviously.”

“…” Fugaku clears his throat. “Right. How do we do that? Yell at her? Tell her breakfast is ready?”

He snorts.

“Honōka,” he says—and calls out to her with his emotions. “It’s time to wake up.”

Her brow wrinkles and Fugaku takes a surprised step closer. She does not open her eyes.

“Hey, kid—Honōka, wake up; you’ve slept long enough, don’t you think?”

A few more air bubbles slip out of her open mouth and she wrinkles her nose.

_< <…Fugaku-oji-chan…? D̶̢̪̹̔̑ ̸̡̛̋̌̔å̶̘̦͎̜̕̕ ̸̧̟̣̺̒r̸͖̠͖͌̄̐͠ ̵̡͈̐͝͝e̵̢̲̬̞͆ ̵̗̱̆͒d̶̨̓ ̴̰̜͆̂̚ȩ̷͚̲̗̚ ̸͍̆͊s̵̲͈̫͔̊̚̚ ̵̡̼͎͓͑͝͝ű̶̡͈͈̈̔͝ ̸̟̱͚̩͠k̵̙͌̂ ̴̟̜̇́ā̸͎͎̜̏͜ ̸̹͋̈͂?̶͈̰̋ Where are you? K̵̜̂͊o̵̭̟̓̽̒̋k̵̯̖͛̐ȍ̷̜̥͙?̷̘͔̈̎̚ ̶̘̥͋d̷̡̰͕̆ơ̵͓̩̂̿̃ḱ̴̞ͅo̶̩̔͒̃?̶̝͎͗̈́̇…>>_

Fugaku tenses up and Orochimaru glares at him.

“Honōka, open your eyes—”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“—we are right in front of you.”

 _< <d̵͎͖̹͑͗ ̴̠̰̆̃̕O̵̖͂̈́̑ ̵̲̽k̶̬̱̘͑̓̐ ̵̢̗̪͈̓͗̋̃O̵̓̓̌͜ ̸̖͇̳͐̔̊̕?̶͇̩̝̘̄ Where? D̸̤̼̗̼̓̀̔̎ ̵̡̭̳̾̀͝ơ̵̬̈̎ ̸̭̎̏̉͝K̴̯͐̈́͆ ̵̥̼̖͉Ǫ̶͙͉̦̈́̍ ̵̬̘̲̤̂̓̐?̷̗̰͍̙̾̏͗̀ “H̷̦̺͓͈̝͋̽̕͘͠ ̴͎͉͓̏̋͝͝O̴̧̔͜ ̶̲̒̄͂̈Ǹ̴̪̜̐͒͂͜ ̵̢̖̟͍̅̉͌̍Ō̵̜̖̈́̽͂͠ ̶̰̭̺͌̚Ǩ̸̫ ̴̻̘̭̇̓͂́͝A̴͕͛͌, open you eyes.”>>_

Honōka opens her eyes, and black tears spill out of fully red eyes. 

_**< <They are open, Orochimaru S̸̤̱̀̂ ̸͉͖̐̈́͋̈Ë̵͕͚̗ ̶̖̅͌N̴̗̤̠̾ ̴͇̩̫̕S̸̗͙͂̄͘ ̴͎̩̟̑Ḙ̸̛̗̈́̾ ̵̣͕̻̽͊̚͝Ĩ̷̫̊̈́.̵̱̬̥̹̅>>** _

“Fuck.” Fugaku swears, his Sharingan shifting into its Mangekyō form.

“Brace yourself, Fugaku.” 

The sphere rapidly darkens, until Honōka’s form is fully obscured within it, and then bursts. The water rains down and collects in the hollow center of the stone platform.

The inky black liquid sloshes in the basin before settling into a mirror flat surface. Fugaku watches the surface without blinking and scarcely even breathing. Orochimaru plants his feet.

_< <The child of the gods, who defeated the gods!~ Is this one’s true identity a blooming flower, or a budding demon?~>>_

Honōka rises out of the blackened water, wearing the smoky cloak of darkness from the battlefield. Her hood is already down, and the shiny black horns are on full display.

Fugaku swears again. “I guess we drew the oni, this time. Fuck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oya ni ninu ko wa oni no ko - or, "a child that does not resemble its parents is the child of an oni," is a saying that is meant to chastise misbehaving children. It can also mean that the child literally does not resemble their parents, because they are not truly parent and child--such as in the case of a 'bastard' child.


	73. Tomoe-desu!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tomoe is an indeterminate human shaped shadow, with black horns and the shapeless silhouette of a familiar cheap black rain coat.
> 
> “What happened to your dress…Tomoe?” She asks.

“Do not touch her, Fugaku.” Orochimaru warns.

“I know—disintegration, right?”

He does not have time to offer confirmation, as the shadow form pounces on him. He jumps back, sliding across the slick water-like surface, and her arm extends—punching him solidly in the stomach. He flies several meters and hits the surface, _hard._ His stomach is somehow still fully intact.

“Orochimaru!” Fugaku shouts.

He rolls back onto his feet, dodging the highly irregular attack sequence of the shadow.

“I am fine—!” He grits out, weaving between strikes. “It appears she cannot disintegrate that which does not have physical form!”

Which means he can attempt to subdue her without fearing harm to himself. He leaps forward.

“Honōka, it is time for you to wake up!”

The shadow screams at him and the force of her voice knocks him back.

_**< <Honōka, Honōka? D̴̯͍̤͍̈́̚ā̷͍̫̼͈r̷̻͚̯̮̀͌͘e̴̢̢͎͙͛ ̴̧͔̰̽̈d̸̼̯̂ḙ̵̡̤͚̃s̸͔̬̳̲͌̊̉̂u̸̡̖̗̖̇̑̏̓ḳ̵͊͘a̶̛̩͍͔̒̌?̴͎̲̉̄̉̍!̷͇̲̟̋ My name isn’t H̸͖̀Ŏ̸̜̲͂Ñ̴͖Ō̵̢̞K̷̰͊̇Ả̴̮̣̄!̵̭͒>>** _

“What the hell is it, then?!” Fugaku screams back.

 _ **< <It’s Ţ̷̙̹̙͐ ̶̞̻̂̈́O̶̻̣͇̗͐͘͝ ̵͎̼̌̕M̶̲͇̊́̊̕ ̵͉̐O̵̟̓ ̶̧̠̲̇̈E̸̫̽—desu!>>**_ She roars.

The surface bubbles and froths—boils—and a sound like rumbling thunder fills the expansive space. He and Fugaku jump back onto the stone platform, which trembles under the might and fury of her voice.

_**< <Â̷̹̜̝̋̈́͋̕ŗ̵̼̙̋̔̇͌͘r̴͍̮̼̭̙̂͠r̵͙̥̟͕͆̓̏͘G̶̨̬̜͂̉͂H̶͇̘̹̓̔͠Ḣ̷̻̊̒!̴͉̻̬̤͒͛̔ͅ>>** _

“Tomoe, I want my student back.” He demands, civilly. He thinks it’s worth trying.

 _ **< <Want, want, want—I want, I w̶̤̑ ̴͍̾a̵̪̅ ̷͕̿ṅ̶̰ ̸̲͒t̶̪̔!̵̳͂>>**_ She lashes out, long arms slapping the surface, sending inky waves spraying through the air. She digs her hands beneath the swells, and howls.

Fugaku snorts. “Yeah. Didn’t think it would be that easy.”

“Sh, Fugaku.” He says. “…What is she doing?”

_**< <Want…want…h̶͍͈̞̀ȯ̵̻̻̙s̷̲̖̑̿͝h̶͎̓͂ī̸̙̘̃-̶͇̞͉͛͝d̷͖͐͘̕e̸̼̍̕ś̶̮ȗ̴̢… Where is it? D̴̟̋ơ̶̡̫̍̔ǩ̸̤̥̟̓o̶̡̱̱͐͝͝n̶̪͍̓i̵̙̣̅̕?̷͕̝̽>>** _

“…I’m not sure. She’s looking for something, right?”

The shadow form stops thrashing and digging through the black water, chest heaving, and the surface returns to its calm, mirrored state. She inspects her reflection, one clawed hand touching the surface just where her face should be, tracing the horns in the reflection.

 _ **< <Want…want…want my face back. Where is it? Who took it? Who stole it?! H̵͇̆͝Ô̴̤N̸̥͈̿Ṑ̶̳̕K̴̗͆̕ͅA̸̤͑!̸̪̭̅ Give it back! Give me back my face!>>**_ She cries, a high pitched shriek that forces both him and Fugaku to their knees. Covering his ears does nothing to block out the sound. He grinds his teeth and blinks the pained tears from his eyes.

The shadow suddenly grows in size; it doubles again and again, until it’s large enough to reach up for the glowing black orb—Honōka’s nexus.

Fugaku shakes off the pain and swears. “Shit! I think she’s trying to escape!”

Definitely not a good thing. He weaves the seals for the water dragon bullet technique, abbreviating the required seals down to four. He’s not even sure it’ll work, until it does.

A great blue dragon rises from the inky ocean of yin chakra—the golden carp from before swimming in the massive head.

It effortlessly weaves around the titan-sized shadow, constricting until she is forced to abandon her quest to reach the exit.

 ** _< <A̸̖̿ṝ̷̭̂r̸̪̓̄g̵̞̑h̶͓̓̆̀h̵͔̟̓̏́!̷̩̀͠>>_** Tomoe screams. **_< <Let me out! D̴̜̚ḁ̸̪̟͑ṣ̶̱͈̈̄̈́h̵͙̬̰̉̐͋ỉ̶̢̲̰t̶̡͓̾͜ẹ̵̍̃̀!̶̝̽ I’ll be a g̴̫͚͔̒͌͗o̶̤̰̩̚o̵̝̭̖̦͆d̴̡̟̜̬̤́͋̽ girl! I promise—!>>_**

Tomoe, Orochimaru realizes, is not Honōka. Not anymore. She’s something else, something…wretched; something sad. She is a lost soul; a vengeful spirit—perhaps, she has become the oni she so hated and feared in life.

They need to seal Tomoe, somehow. He would prefer to drive her out, if possible, but he suspects the process would harm his Honōka.

Tomoe stumbles and tears at the water dragon, and he expects it to burst from the assault at any moment, but her massive clawed hands just slip off the watery scales. The golden carp seems to be lending its own strength to the jutsu. He’s not certain how or why that’s possible, but he’s not complaining, either.

“We need to seal her—Tomoe—don’t we?” Fugaku says. “She’s…she's just too powerful for Honōka to control.”

Orochimaru nods.

“Leave, and have Minato prepare the Four Symbols Seal. If he says he does not know how, tell him he is lying. I will attempt to separate Tomoe and Honōka in the meantime.”

“…”

“Fugaku—”

“I think I can seal her with my Mangekyō Sharingan.”

Orochimaru frowns.

“With Kunitsukami?” He considers. “I am failing to imagine how that would work as a valid sealing method.”

“…Kunitsukami dwells in my right eye. Kakuriyoōkami dwells in the left.”

God of the Hidden World?

“How certain are you of your method?”

“…”

“Well?” Orochimaru snaps. He’s concentrating on the water dragon and the carp—Tomoe’s struggle against it is not weakening in the least.

“It’ll work.”

“Very well. Be ready to begin at any moment.”

Fugaku nods and Orochimaru leaves the control of the jutsu to the carp and runs up the back of the dragon, jumping over the clawed hand that attempts to swat him.

 _ **< <Orochimaru! Ŝ̴̱̺͇̻̥̊Ḙ̸̡̜͍͊̓Ǹ̸̝͈̹̊̄̌S̴̢̹̋Ẻ̸̥͍̬̔͛̄͘I̴̱̲̜̋̐͂̇̚!̵̻̂̽͘>>**_ She shrieks.

 _> Enoshima_Yashagorō<_ A voice whispers to him.

Orochimaru nearly stumbles. He has not heard _that_ name spoken in a _very_ long time.

The clawed hand comes down again and he dodges and weaves. She might not be able to disintegrate him, but he’s not interested in finding out if she can squash him flat.

_> Over_here:Enoshima_Yashagorō<_

He reasons Honōka _did_ read it when she signed the snake summoning contract. She knows his true name, even if she has never said it aloud before.

_> Proxy<_

…

**_> Dairi<_ **

He stops on top of the dragon’s coil, standing next to the center of Tomoe’s large back. She struggles with the jaws of the dragon at the front.

A golden glow illuminates him from below and he looks down. It’s the golden carp.

_> Daughter_distress<_

Orochimaru’s heart races. He was hoping he would have more time to figure out how to pull Honōka out of Tomoe’s shadowy cloak, but it seems that he is running out of time. Honōka is running out of time.

He places his hand on Tomoe’s back and sends out a pulse of chakra. She recoils, but the dragon keeps her from throwing him off. He waits.

…A weak pulse of chakra echoes back. Honōka!

He takes a deep breath and plunges his hand into the shadowy substance that makes up Tomoe’s cloak—it feels like sticking his arm into a vat of battery acid.

“Honōka…!” He chokes out. “If you can hear me, take my hand—reach!”

Something warm brushes his fingertips; once, twice, and then he grabs, fingers closing around a small hand. He _pulls._

Her pale hand emerges in his, and then her arm clad in wire-mesh armor. He pulls and pulls until her shoulder and neck appears, then reaches in with his other arm—gritting his teeth from the burning pins and needles sensation—and supports the back of her head and neck.

He yanks, and there’s a wet tearing sound as the shadow finally lets go of Honōka. She coughs and black water spews from her nose and mouth, evaporating into more shadowy smoke. Orochimaru collects his student into his arms and leaps away from Tomoe, landing once more on the stone platform.

Tomoe crumples, shrinking down to a more manageable size. The water dragon and carp retreats from her, coiling around the base of the stone platform instead.

“Kakuriyoōkami: Yachihoko no Fūin.” Fugaku pronounces, clearly, and with intent.

As the name suggests, eight thousand spears rain down from above. They do not pierce Tomoe, but rather fall in a circle all around her. Tomoe, realizing she is about to become trapped, crawls on her hands and knees to escape the encroaching circle.

_**< <No! D̵̼͉̑ȧ̴̱̘̭s̴͍͕̏̊̅ḣ̶͔̟̻͐͠î̸̢̼ẗ̷̬͆͘ȅ̷̥̞͆!̷̳̐ Let me out, I’ll be a g̸̢͍̙̓̐̑ô̴̖ǫ̷̱͎̓d̶̡͇̮̽͆͌̔ girl! I promised—Ȋ̴̯ͅ ̸̰̚p̸͍̞̒͌r̷̡̬̊̔o̷̜͠m̶̦̿i̸͕̅̽ş̴͙̔e̵̮̿d̶̃̍͜!̴̛̣>>** _

The last spear falls, and the space changes. Eight thousand spears glow white hot and become an interlocking basket weave. The glow fades and Tomoe is revealed, surrounded on all sides, top to bottom.

 _Kagome Kagome._ The bird in the cage.

She gets to her feet and throws herself at the brassy colored hexagonal cage. It makes a sound like large shrine bells shaking, which would be nearly comical, if not for the anguished scream she accompanies it with.

Her arm morphs into a point and she attempts to stab it through one of the many hexagonal gaps. The cage pulses and a sound like a gong reverberates throughout the space. Tomoe is blown back from the wall of the cage, landing near the center of the construct.

She wails, kicking and screaming like a child throwing a tantrum… And, Orochimaru realizes—in another lifetime, that is exactly what she was.

Honōka blinks awake. Maybe not ‘awake’, but definitely aware. The space around her is dark, black on black on black, but there is a luminescence that lights everything, making the black horizon pop against the black water that goes on and on and on. Her nexus is dark and she frowns. Did she die?

Sensei cradles her to his chest and she blinks a couple times.

“Sensei?”

Relief crashes through her, from Sensei, and from Fugaku.

“What…what happened?” She asks.

Sensei crushes her to him, hugging her tightly in that way that nearly chokes the breath out of her. He smooshes his lips to the crown of her head and she blushes, pleased but also embarrassed by the attention.

“If you ever do that again…!” He threatens. “Just, _don’t_.”

She frowns, and then there’s a huge glowing blue dragon with her carp in one watery eye peering down at her. She squeaks.

“Why are you not in your pond?!” She panics. Where is the carp’s pond? Where is the waterfall?!

The dragon smiles—or, she thinks it does—and slithers past her and Sensei on its belly, four short limbs with four toes each helping push its great translucent body into the round pool of water at the center of a raised stone platform. She can’t remember if there ever was a stone platform in her liminal space, or if it was simply submerged before.

It dissolves into the stagnant black water, which begins glowing before overflowing into the surrounding inky darkness. It dilutes the surrounding water into darkest navy, as far as the eye can see, while the pool of water at the center glows in the same way that Benten’s Spring at Ryūchi Cave does.

The carp swims in a happy circle and a geyser erupts from the center of the pool, roaring water soaring high into the empty black sky, and then reconnecting with her nexus.

A pulse of brightest white fills the space and she, Sensei, and Fugaku all gasp, shielding their eyes as the light is captured by her nexus.

She feels warmth spread across her face as the light spins around the black hole that is her nexus. There’s a sound like many, many, candles being lit and when she opens her eyes the infinitely large galaxy being consumed by a mutually undying black hole is back in the sky. And, the reflection of a hundred billion stars shines on the dark water surrounding them. 

Sensei and Fugaku slowly open their eyes and look around in wonder, jaws slack.

“So this is what it’s supposed to look like from down here…” Fugaku mutters.

She laughs at him and there’s an unsettling echo. She slowly turns around. 

“Who is…” behind her…?

It’s her turn to let her jaw fall slack.

There is a large brass colored cage half sunk into the water. It’s made from trihexagonal tiling, or kagome lattice. It’s beautiful—but it’s also a cage. Honōka swallows.

She jumps off the stone platform and jogs over to the cage.

“Honōka!” Sensei shouts. He cuts her off, fingers biting into her shoulder to stop her. It hurts, but she knows he doesn’t mean to hurt her. He’s…panicking. He doesn’t want her anywhere near that cage.

“Kid—Honōka, probably don’t get too close to that, yeah? We had enough trouble pulling you two apart the first time. Let’s not go for a second time, so soon, okay?”

“That’s…that’s me.” Her. _Tomoe._

“No.” Sensei says, firmly. _“That_ is Tomoe, and _you_ are Honōka.”

He’s wrong, but she’s not about to argue with him over it.

_**< <I’m afraid of the dark…let me out, please…Otō-sama…! I’ll be a g̸̖̳̝̎̊̑o̶͕͚͋͋̆ȯ̵̭̋͝d̵̹̘̿͋̋ girl, I promise…>>** _

“Otō-san isn’t here, anymore. It’s okay—there’s nothing to be afraid of.”

Tomoe launches herself at the cage lattice and a sound like a gong crashes over her. She holds her ears.

_**< <H̷̨͎̻̃̓̃O̶̩̱͔̯̅̓Ṇ̶̤̻̤̐Ō̷̞͇̒̔̕K̴̮̅͘A̶̡̡̻͝!̵̙̝̞̺̋͐̈́̈́ GIVE IT BACK! GIVE ME BACK MY FACE!>>** _

The echoing scream knocks her back, and Sensei catches her before she can fall on her ass. 

“I can’t!” She shouts back. “I don’t have it!”

_**< <WHERE IS IT?! WHO TOOK IT?! D̸̝̞̔͜ạ̶̗͆͑s̸̜̪̅̿h̶̭͖̠͝i̵̥̪̽ţ̵̠̟̉e̶̜͋͋!̷͋ͅ I WANT—WANT—H̷̙̖̒̈́̏̊O̶̫͍͈̒S̸̺̱̣̙̈̆̎H̸̘͑̑̋̂Ī̷͍̣̔͂D̸̛̦̱̗͒͗E̷̢̾̾̏͑S̴̛̮̀͊͜Ŭ̸͓!̶̡͍́̚>>** _

Tomoe screams and screams and rattles the cage, the sound eerily reminiscent of the bells on the Benten-sha of her first life.

“SHUT UP!”

Silence.

“I don’t have it anymore.” She says. “I’m sorry.” She forgot what it looked like, a long time ago. “Why don’t we just share my face?”

Fugaku facepalms and Sensei let’s out a hissed breath.

_**< <Share? Your face? I don’t want it. U̷͙̘͘g̵̗͌l̶̖͉̪̱̃̓̊̚y̵͔̯͗.̸̘͑ Not mine.>>** _

She takes another step closer to the cage and Sensei follows her, hand not leaving her shoulder.

Tomoe is an indeterminate human shaped shadow, with black horns and the shapeless silhouette of a familiar cheap black raincoat.

“What happened to your dress…Tomoe?” She asks.

_**< <…Dress…? Threw it away. S̸͚̭͋u̷̗̾͊t̴̟͠e̸͚͂̚r̷͕͠u̵̞͛͛…>>** _

“But it was _our_ favorite. Blue, with a red bow and a white ribbon? Ojī-chan took us shopping for it on our birthday, remember? On September twenty-third.”

_**< <…>>** _

The shadow clears and Tomoe is standing across from her with long black hair and wearing her favorite blue dress. Her face is still eigengrau, and two shiny black horns poke out from her bangs. Tomoe crisply turns around and walks into the center of the cage.

 _< <N̶̪̈́ẽ̷̙m̶̠͋u̷̡̾i̷̦̕ḍ̷e̷̦̒š̶̭u̷̖̅… Sleepy.>>_

Tomoe sinks beneath the dark surface and disappears, though she must still be inside the cage, somewhere, Honōka reasons.

Fugaku clears his throat. “That went well. Can we leave now?”

“Shall we?” Sensei asks, letting go of her shoulder and offering his hand out, to hold, instead. She takes it, leaning into Sensei’s warmth. He feels like home.


	74. weak point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Sensei, I’m hungry.”
> 
> Minato and Kakashi finally realize she’s awake and practically throw themselves at her before Sensei has the chance to respond.

Honōka blinks and this time she really is awake. Her stomach growls. She’s starving!

Sensei elegantly flops onto his hip, massaging his left calf muscle. He’s wearing a gray yukata with a subtle geometric pattern and she wonders where he got it from. Fugaku groans and rubs his eyes. He’s wearing his jōnin attire, minus the flak jacket. Is the battle over? She hopes so.

“Damn, how long were we gone for? My eyes feel like glue.”

“Twenty minutes or so,” Minato replies. “I was going to use Suiton to rehydrate your eyes but no one would let me try—and then you started crying so I figured that was hydration enough.”

“Gee, thanks.” Fugaku snorts. He looks up and blinks rapidly, encouraging more tears to gather and coat his eyes. There are a few broken blood vessels, but they aren’t bleeding like the first time he activated his Mangekyō.

She tugs on Sensei’s sleeve.

“Sensei, I’m hungry.”

Minato and Kakashi finally realize she’s awake and practically throw themselves at her before Sensei has the chance to respond.

“Honōka-chan, you’re awake!”

Kakashi climbs on top of her and squashes her cheeks between his hands. She tries to protest but it comes out sounding funny.

“If you ever— _ever!_ —run off like that again—” no one seems to know what is or isn’t appropriate to threaten her with. “I’ll tell Rin.”

She gasps, pulling Kakashi’s hands off her face. “You wouldn’t!”

“I would. In fact—I will. What you did was _stupid.”_

“But—!”

“I’m telling Rin.” Kakashi declares. “And she’s going to be _so_ disappointed with you.”

“Kakashi!” She whines. “That’s not fair!”

“You leaving me behind to get stabbed in the ass with a needle full of sedative is what’s not fair!”

Honōka can’t help herself. She laughs. She laughs so hard that she snorts, and eventually, between choking gasps and mirthful tears, she calms down.

“Seriously, don’t leave me behind next time.” Kakashi whispers, embarrassed. “…Don’t go where I can’t follow.”

She lets go of his hands and offers her arms out for a hug. He snorts and rolls off of her.

“I’m not hugging you. You stink.”

She squawks at him, indignant.

Minato chuckles. “Kakashi, be nice.”

Sensei shakes his, fondly. “Minato, he is hardly wrong to complain—she smells positively foul.”

“Sensei!” Mean!

Fugaku rolls his eyes at them.

“What did you expect, kid? I doubt you’ve had a proper bath this week.”

“…” Longer, probably.

“Can I have something to eat now?” She’s actually starving—so hungry she might just pass out if she tries to stand, let alone wash. “I’m so hungry I could eat my own arm.”

Chōza stands up and she glances at the Inoshikachō trio, who have resigned themselves to being outside observers to their friendly banter.

“Shikaku, I’ll go track down some food for everyone. Should I bring our food here, too, or…?”

Shikaku shakes his head, firmly. “We’ll eat with Torifu-san later.”

Chōza nods. He steps towards the exit, but pauses.

“Hey, Honōka, is there anything in particular you want to eat?”

“Soft boiled eggs and anything salty!” She chirps.

Chōza smiles at her, phoenix eyes crinkling. “Sounds easy enough to find. I’ll be back in a flash.”

Chōza leaves and a moment of silence passes. Shikaku gives Sensei and Fugaku meaningful looks.

“Well, what’s the verdict?” He asks. “What was that thing?”

Honōka frowns. 

“What was what thing?”

“It has been sealed, thanks to Fugaku’s…expertise.” Sensei says.

“Sealed?” Minato asks. “How, and with what? I wasn’t aware seals could be placed without a catalyst?”

Fugaku taps his temple, indicating his eyes. “The Sharingan is very versatile.”

“I thought Honōka couldn’t be affected by genjutsu—even Sharingan-based genjutsu?” Inoichi asks.

“What my evolved Sharingan did goes beyond simple genjutsu,” Fugaku replies. “It, like the Kotoamatsukami, is powerful enough to change the actual structure of the subconscious mind.”

Her frown deepens.

“Then there’s a weak point in our trump card against Danzō.” Shikaku growls. “Who’s to say he hasn’t already guessed it. Kakashi figured it out easily enough.”

Fugaku shrugs. “I’m fairly certain it’s a weak spot that can only be taken advantage of under very specific circumstances. I think if Honōka were conscious while I tried, her right eye would have rejected my attempt to enter her subconscious mind without her permission, full stop.”

She glances around and slowly sits up. She tugs on Sensei’s sleeve again.

“What happened…? Did…did Tomoe do something bad?” Did she _hurt_ someone?

Surprise registers on Sensei’s face.

“…Do you remember the events leading up to your…brief foray with death?”

She nods, slowly.

“I thought I could reroute Ōnoki’s Dust Release using my liminal space as a buffer, but the kikaichū ate a small hole through my lower dantian. When the pressure got too much, it tore until the entire thing collapsed on itself.”

Sensei looks like he could be sick, and his throat bobs.

“Honōka-chan,” Minato bites his lip, “your seventh gate ruptured?”

Minato insists on using that term, because the tenketsu known as the Gate of Wonder is the seventh of eight large chakra nodes spread across the body. The seventh gate is arguably the largest, and is also the main ‘coil’ responsible for generating physical chakra.

He’s particularly concerned now, because Kushina’s seal is anchored at that point, and excessive strain from Tenko-sama can cause that point to rupture—a fatal incidence should it happen.

“I think so. It’s fine now.”

Shikaku’s eyes narrow.

_“How?”_

Honōka considers, then shrugs.

“I don’t know. I remember the…rupture," a searing pain and flash of blinding light, "and I remember—I remember…” She remembers hearing the word ‘oni’ over and over again, and the anger—rage—Tomoe must have felt. “I remember feeling angry.”

And then a soothing caress of cool water and a softly glowing light the color of sunshine beneath crystal clear water enveloping her in a protective embrace. She remembers hearing a voice that sounded like everything she's ever loved—and yet made her heart _want,_ and want _fiercely._

“Honōka?” Sensei asks.

She sniffles. She thinks the voice sounded liked everything she ever imagined her mother might sound like. 

“I’m okay, Sensei.”

Shikaku’s mouth twists into a scowl. He gets…oddly resentful whenever Sensei shows any amount of concern for her.

“So, that thing—”

“Tomoe,” she says.

“Tomoe,” he corrects himself. “Tomoe is what—an alter ego? Some kind of revenant from your previous life?”

She flashes Sensei a hurt look. He returns to her a sort of helpless guilt. It must have been necessary to tell them, she guesses.

“Tomoe is a ball of concentrated emotions and chakra.” Fugaku replies. “She has a… _will_ , distorted as it is. I’m not sure if she’s a finite source, and will eventually exhaust her existence and disappear; or if she’s self-sustaining, like the Kyūbi and the other Bijū.”

Shikaku nods. “And you sealed her. So, that Tomoe—she’s dangerous, and Honōka can’t contain her on her own?”

Fugaku and Sensei nod.

“She can, _hijack,_ if you would,” Sensei says. “Honōka’s physical body and suppress her consciousness—likely in response to great stress.”

“Right…” Shikaku says. “And now that you’ve sealed her, Tomoe won’t be able to spontaneously take over again?”

Sensei looks at her, one eyebrow twitching. He wants to say yes, but…

“What?” She asks.

“Assuming Honōka doesn’t go sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong.” Kakashi guesses.

“I would never!”

Sensei hums and Minato laughs, awkwardly.

“I bet she’ll break it somehow, in like, one year.” Kakashi says.

“Ten,” Fugaku says.

Kakashi’s eyes narrow.

“You sound confident about that number. How much are you willing to bet?”

Fugaku crosses his arms. “One hundred thousand ryō for every year I’m wrong.”

“I’m switching my bet to seven years.” Kakashi declares.

They shake on it and Minato covers his ears and shuts his eyes, as if he can protect himself from their (probably) illegal gambling that way.

Sensei massages his temple. “My student has a gambling addiction…now _how_ on earth did that happen?”

“Tsunade-san taught us about probability when I was in the hospital.” Honōka replies. “We made a mint betting against her. It was great.”


	75. old chemicals and new formaldehyde

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Torifu shakes his head slowly at her. “Honōka-chan, you’re crazier than a sack full of cats.”
> 
> Why does everyone keep calling her _crazy?_ She’s not that _bad!_

The border skirmish is over, and the camp wrecked—but their rotation of border patrol is not quite done.

Thankfully, most everyone is finishing up two weeks early—only the latecomers who are still in good health will be waiting for the next rotation to arrive. And thank the gods her team isn't considered latecomers, or in particularly ‘good health’! They’ll be leaving in the morning and she can hardly wait.

Earlier in the day, a team of traps and seals experts were sent to investigate and disarm the explosive traps left by Daruma, and to retrieve his body. The next rotation of border patrol won’t be camping in the same location, obviously, but leaving the area potentially hazardous for the next group is hardly fair.

As a result, Sensei and a couple other jōnin are tasked with handling the autopsy of the corpse she and Kakashi left sticking half-in and half-out of the ground. She idly wonders if it was cold enough to significantly delay decomposition.

Either way, his identity is confirmed and an excited stir of smug satisfaction spreads through Muramura no Sato. Gossip and rumors spread just as quickly in shinobi circles as they do in civilian ones, apparently. 

Sensei feels a twinge of exasperation with her and Kakashi for daring to face such a foe and tugs on her awareness just as Yoshino barrels into their temporary living quarters. She nearly flattens Minato with the swinging door.

“Honōka, Kakashi! They’re ransoming that Iwa-nin’s body! You guys should claim responsibility! That asshole is worth five million ryō!”

Minato is so confused. They forgot to tell him about that…whoops! 

“…What Iwa-nin’s body?”

“Bakuton no Daruma!” Yoshino exclaims. “You guys won’t get the full five million—Iwa will try to negotiate the price down from Konoha’s Bingo Book standard, and then some will be claimed by Konohagakure, but you’ll probably still get a million ryō each!”

Minato frowns but more or less realizes what’s going on. He whips out his copy of the Bingo Book from a storage scroll and flicks through the pages. He pales when he finds the entry on ‘Bakuton no Daruma’.

“You…you guys!” He shouts. He’s turning nearly purple in the face. “You took on an A-rank member of the Explosion Corps?! By yourselves?! Are you both _crazy?!_ You could have been killed!”

Uh-oh. They’ve genuinely upset Minato. She glances at Kakashi and he glances at her and then they both point at each other.

“It was Honōka’s idea.” Kakashi says, remorselessly.

“It was _your_ plan.” Honōka retorts.

“Yeah, but it was _your_ trap and then my plan failed anyways, so _you_ suggested—”

“That we use _your_ headhunter technique—”

 _“Our_ headhunter technique, it’s collaborative—”

Minato covers his face and yells into his hands and she and Kakashi stop arguing. Minato falls silent after a drawn out warble and scrubs his face with the heels of his palms.

“…Does Sensei know?” He asks.

Honōka nods. “I told him after it happened. He’s actually trying to get my attention right now. I think he wants me and Kakashi to report to him.”

“Of course he does…” Minato mutters.

Yoshino gestures impatiently at the door. “Get going then!”

Minato sighs. “You guys, _just,_ go on—I’m going to finish cleaning up here…so that we’re all ready to leave bright and early tomorrow morning…”

“Thanks, Minato!” She says, grabbing Kakashi by the hand. She pulls him to the door. “You’re the best!”

“Yoshino-san, did you have to encourage them so much? They’re _only_ seven. You shouldn’t sound so excited about them profiting from killing a man…”

“Minato. Five. Million. Ryō…! Even if they only see one million a piece, that’s amazing!”

She shuts the door behind them and skips to Sensei’s location.

“Is Orochimaru-sensei…upset with us, too?” Kakashi asks.

“Eh. Not really. Exasperated—but not upset. I didn’t tell him the name of the Iwa-nin we killed, so he was a little bit surprised when he identified the body, I think.”

“A little bit surprised…” Kakashi repeats.

“Just a little!”

They enter the old tannery building on the outskirt of Muramura that the villagers have permitted them to use to conduct autopsies. It stinks of old chemicals and new formaldehyde. Kakashi pinches his nose.

“…” He looks a little green.

“Are you going to be okay?” She asks.

He nods.

“We’re almost there.” It’s probably too much to hope for the body to be sealed. They probably have to identify it as the shinobi they killed.

They enter a storage hall and several pairs of eyes look up. Sensei and Torifu are there, and a woman with graying hair who can’t be older than twenty.

“Honōka, Kakashi.” Sensei greets. He gestures for them to come over. There’s a body on the table, covered by a dusty old sheet. The belly is bloated. _Yuck._ She hates when that happens.

She walks over to Sensei’s side, trailed by Kakashi. Kakashi has killed before—on his last border patrol—but he’s not used to being around cadavers after the fact.

“I am assuming this is the Iwa-nin you and Kakashi dealt with at the camp?” Sensei says, turning the sheet back from the dead man’s face.

They cleaned his face up a bit—but it’s pretty obvious something ate his nose and ears and eyes. She wrinkles her nose.

“That’s him,” she agrees. “Ol’Daruma.”

The woman raises an eyebrow but the incredulous expression doesn’t reach her eyes. “Ol’Daruma?”

“That’s what he called himself.” Kakashi says. He feels like he regrets opening his mouth. His stomach rolls.

“Well, he certainly is ‘old’.” She agrees. “I expect that’s how you two managed to beat him—he looks a bit past his prime, yes?”

Torifu grunts and the woman hands them a clipboard, and brush tip pen.

“Sign here; thumb print there.” She says, then sighs. “The Tsuchikage is not going to be happy to see his most senior colleague returned to him in a scroll.”

Sensei snorts. “I doubt Iwa was inquiring about the whereabouts of their Explosion Corps member and expecting him to be alive, Shinonome.” 

Torifu rumbles. “Too bad we only got one of the bastards. Bakuton is one nasty kekkei genkai.”

Shinonome purses her lips and Honōka glances at her nexus, willing herself to _not_ fall in, this time. She attempts to disturb the puddles that dot the muddy road stretching on and on inside the woman’s liminal space, from a distance, but they remain suspiciously smooth.

Honōka wrinkles her nose, as though bothered by the smell of the body. It doesn’t actually smell that bad, maybe. She can’t tell over the smell of formaldehyde. She rubs her nose in an ‘x’ shaped pattern and Kakashi’s nose crinkles.

“The Tsuchikage doesn’t care about Daruma.” Honōka says, and looks Shinonome straight in the eyes. “He’s probably _glad_ he’s dead. Ōnoki is a wise man who doesn’t care for violence for the sake of violence—or power for the sake of power. He genuinely cares about his village, unlike _some_ people.”

“And you know this how?”

“I skimmed the contents of his mind before I killed him.”

Torifu coughs and Sensei shoots her a curious look.

Shinonome’s pupils expand just slightly, and her hand twitches for the kunai Honōka thinks is hiding in her sleeve, but then she has her emotions under control again.

“I see.” She pauses for an appropriate amount of time. “Excuse me.”

She leaves and the moment the door shuts behind her, Kakashi punches Honōka in the shoulder.

“What the heck was that about, dumbass?”

She rubs her shoulder and sticks her tongue out at him.

“Honōka…” Sensei drawls. “Did you just threaten Danzō, through his _plant?”_

“Wasn’t it clear she was trying to make us feel responsible for possibly inciting a new conflict so soon after the last?” Honōka says. “What’s the problem with letting Danzō know it won’t work?”

Torifu shakes his head slowly at her. “Honōka-chan, you’re crazier than a sack full of cats.”

Why does everyone keep calling her _crazy?_ She’s not that _bad!_


	76. live or die by his hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He does not look anywhere in the vicinity of Danzō’s bandaged eye, focusing instead on a missed whisker on his upper lip. Danzō smirks and the ‘x’ shaped scar on his chin wrinkles. 
> 
> Disgusting.

Orochimaru and his team pass through the open Konoha gates and Honōka skips ahead to the chūnin manning the front desk. She slaps her hands on the desk and pops up so that she can reach the sign-in sheet, swinging her legs happily as she signs.

They chuckle at her.

“Glad to be back?” the chūnin asks.

“So glad!” she chirps, dropping off the desk, logbook and all. “Here, Kakashi. You can use my back to sign.”

Kakashi rolls his eyes at her but accepts the offer. He hands the logbook to Minato who signs it while very slightly leaning against the desk. His collapsed lung is still healing, and the pace Minato set for himself during their return to Konoha was possibly too strenuous.

Orochimaru signs and they head to the administration building, attached to the Academy, where the Hokage’s office is located. Honōka frowns.

“Hokage-sama isn’t in his office.”

“Where is he?” Minato asks.

Honōka concentrates for a moment.

“He’s either by a substation or hidden by one of those Uzumaki sealing tags you used before.”

“He could be in the official Hokage residence,” Minato says. “It’s pretty heavily sealed.”

Orochimaru frowns.

“By a substation? Why on _earth_ would that matter?”

His student shrugs.

“The electromagnetic field scatters sensory-fields, creating a dead zone, kind of.”

He feels his eyebrow twitch. “…You did not mention this to me before.”

She shrugs, again. “It’s not like there are big substations outside villages to muck up my sensory perception—ah!” she exclaims, suddenly. “But Kakashi’s nexus does generate a small EM field that distorts some smaller sensory-fields. I was thinking, if he could control it and make it larger somehow, he could hide other signatures or even shut off sensor-abilities. Like, it would still create a circular sphere where a sensor could tell someone was blocking them from afar, but they’d have no idea if there were other shinobi waiting inside the dead zone to ambush them either.”

He scowls at her, affectionately.

“That finally explains how you could sense a substation from two hundred meters away.” She was sensing the distortion in her sensory-field. He should have realized sooner.

She considers. “Oh! I see.”

Kakashi crosses his arms behind his head.

“How would I go about expanding that EM field thing?”

“The electromagnetic field generated by substations and power lines are the result of moving electrical charges.” Orochimaru is not particularly interested in power generating sciences. He knows only a little about it, in general. “I would assume a greater amount of electrical charge generates a larger EM field.”

Honōka nods.

“Since your nature affinity is lightning, your lower dantian is constantly moving small amounts of lightning natured chakra, which has an electrical charge. That’s what’s generating the EM field. So, if you increase the amount of lightning nature spinning in your lower dantian, and increase the RPM, the EM field show grow.”

“RPM?” Kakashi asks.

“Rotations per minute.” Honōka explains. “Like, you heart beats about seventy-two times per minute—a BPM of seventy-two; and your lower dantian rotates about one hundred and twenty times per minute, so an RPM of one hundred and twenty.”

Kakashi brings his hands up and focuses on molding chakra while they walk.

“Anything?” he asks.

“Hm…not really. Your RPM did increase but the lightning slowed down, I think.”

He narrows his eyes and tries again. Minato claps him on the shoulder.

“How about we do that later—at the Third Training Ground, maybe?”

“Spoilsport,” Honōka says.

“Hey now—”

“Killjoy.” Kakashi agrees.

“Sensei—they’re bullying me,” Minato complains.

“And?” he asks. “What do you want me to do about it?”

Minato lets out a stuttering sigh. If he develops complications from the treatment of his pneumothorax he is going to have words with Fujihara Tsubasa.

They arrive at the administration building. There’s banging coming from a window in the Academy.

Honōka waves enthusiastically as Uchiha Obito is dragged back from the window by his ear. She laughs and Kakashi grins.

They report to the Mission Assignment Desk to deliver their report. The desk is occupied by a young chūnin.

“Is Sandaime-sama in?” Minato politely inquires.

The chūnin shakes his head, wide eyes flickering between him and Minato. “Council meeting.” He squeaks.

Minato nods and they leave it at that.

“The couch ninjas are at their homes.” Honōka declares when they are out of earshot. “…Danzō is at the lab, Sensei.”

He clicks his tongue. Danzō wants to intimidate him in his own home, does he?

“Sensei…you’re going to talk to him, alone, aren’t you?”

Minato draws in a sharp breath. “Is that wise, Sensei? What about Kotoamatsukami?”

He curls his lip.

“The fact that he has used it sparingly thus far suggests that it is not something he can afford to waste. His efforts are concentrated on controlling Sarutobi-sensei, for the moment.”

Besides that, Honōka appears to be able to break the supposedly unbreakable genjutsu of Kotoamatsukami.

“Sensei,” she tugs on his flak jacket, firmly. “I—Shinryūgan doesn’t let me break genjutsu like Kotoamatsukami—it just let’s me see what has been overwritten…and then I tear it out before it can keep overwriting more memories. The memories it affects—I can’t restore them.”

Ah, yes. That makes sense now.

His anger towards Sarutobi-sensei dulled into something wary and tired after Honōka broke the genjutsu on him. It left him feeling rather tense and uncertain for some time after—confused.

He won’t complain though. He’s fairly certain he only lost insignificant memories—likely those that only served to fuel his anger and bitterness towards his sensei in the first place.

Honōka tugs on his flak jacket again, lip wobbling.

“What if he makes you _hate_ me and I have to break the genjutsu again? What if you don’t remember me like you used to?”

He kneels down and ruffles her hair.

“Then that is what you must do.”

“But—”

“You have an exceptional memory, Honōka. You will just have to tell me all that I might forget, if it comes to that.”

Kakashi makes an unhappy rumble low in his chest and Minato wrings his hands.

“He cannot easily move against me at the moment.” He reminds them. “Not after all that happened at the border. I have a rather favorable reputation right now, and people will question if I suddenly disappear or find my reputation besmirched.”

His young teammates don’t look convinced. He scoffs at them.

“I am going, alone, and you all are going to unpack. Do not make it so obvious that you are skulking around.” Other shinobi will certainly notice with how tense their stances are.

Honōka slowly nods.

“I’m keeping an eye on you, Sensei—if he takes you near any substations, call for me, okay? I’ll still notice, if it’s you calling.”

He chuckles. If anyone else were attempting to to keep tabs on him he would be severely offended. Honōka is the only exception.

Then Minato hands him one of his Hiraishin kunai.

“Channel chakra into the hilt and I’ll teleport you out. Don’t hesitate if you need to, please.”

“Good heavens!” he complains, but takes the kunai anyhow. He glances down at Kakashi, who has his arms crossed over his chest. “Do you have any instructions for me, Kakashi?”

Kakashi shakes his head. “No—but where Honōka goes, I go. If she decides she needs to rescue you, _again,_ I’m going with her this time.” His expression dares him to need rescuing, _again._

Orochimaru snorts.

“You are all ridiculous.”

He arrives at his empty lab. It smells faintly stale. Danzō is not waiting for him in the front office, though that is hardly a surprise. He heads for the back office, where the basement elevator connects with.

Danzō is sitting in Orochimaru's swivel chair—lounging, really. He is the picture of contented ease.

“Orochi.”

“Danzō.”

He does not look anywhere in the vicinity of Danzō’s bandaged eye, focusing instead on a missed whisker on his upper lip. Danzō smirks and the ‘x’ shaped scar on his chin wrinkles. 

Disgusting.

“You did good work in Kusa,” he praises. “That fool of a daimyō was beginning to make a nuisance of himself.”

Orochimaru exhales through his nose and carefully monitors himself. He does not feel pleased by Danzō’s paper thin attempt at praise—which is a good sign. He’s using standard verbal manipulation techniques rather than genjutsu or other coercive jutsu.

He’s being cautious. He doesn’t want to be caught unawares, and red-handed, again.

“I hear you defeated the Tsuchikage in battle—with the help of the Namikaze boy and Uchiha Fugaku—if rumors are to be believed.”

He inclines his head to hide his glare. He won’t even deign to speak Minato’s full name, will he? _Coward._

“It was a long battle. Youth, I believe, was the deciding factor.”

He feels a pulse of _annoyance._ Killing intent. Yes—that would be a sore spot for the old war hawk, wouldn’t it? Orochimaru refrains from smiling.

“Speaking of youths…” Danzō drawls.

He tenses. Will he ask about Honōka? Kakashi?

“The experimental Mokuton subjects perished while you were away.

 _No._ Orochimaru’s heartbeat pounds in his ears and his rushing blood throbs in his neck.

_No!_

“All of them?” he asks, voice strong and clear even as acid scorches the back of his throat.

“Indeed.” Danzō replies. “Such a shame. We were so close to succeeding, this time.”

“Yes. A pity.” His mouth twists but he does not scream. 

They were not just _close_ to succeeding _—_ they had succeeded! Every single one had been stabilized from various states of disease and deformity!

Sixty children destined to either live or die by his hand _—_ or to simply die for being unfortunate enough to have been born at all. 

Orphans with limbs blown off from land mines—whole and healthy, their missing limbs regrown from the cells of the First Hokage. Dead. Premature babies expected to die from one complication or another, whisked away from distraught mothers and declared dead—brought to him and nurtured to term in tanks of cell cultures. Gone. The unfortunate street children of the red-light district, promised a shinobi education in return for their cooperation. Erased.

All their lives, now ended.

“I had the bodies removed and entombed at the Boneyard. The rest of the lab I left as is. I suggest you clean up before someone else stumbles upon it, Orochi.”

“…”

Danzō smiles.

“Dismissed.”


	77. ‘te, n, zo, u,’

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh dear. That was not what he had in mind for distracting thoughts. He hates when his traitorous mind sets him on deeply disturbing tangents.

Orochimaru sits at his desk in the office outside the Mokuton lab, heels on the edge of the swivel chair and forehead pressed to his knees. It’s undignified, but he can’t bring himself to care.

He took one look at the broken infant sized tanks in the lab, glass shattered inward—clearly from an outside force, and a wave of nausea overcame him, forcing him to leave the lab and sit as he does now.

…he did this.

He is responsible for the deaths of sixty young children. Their death are on him, because he did not say no.

He…has done many horrendous things in his life. He has tortured grown men and women, shinobi and civilian, for trivial information in times of war, and in times of ‘peace’. He has operated on oblivious participants, experimented on unwilling subjects, and biopsied conscious and restrained enemy-nin for no other reason than his own curiosity.

And yet, he has never been directly responsible for the deaths of any children under the age of…seven. (He is responsibly for the death—however temporary—of his student, after all.)

It used to be that the only child he felt responsible for killing, was Nawaki—Tsunade’s younger brother. He should never have let him run ahead—but there should not have been any explosive traps in the vicinity, either.

Inuzuka Mei, the team leader of the traps and seals team at that time, had checked and checked their surroundings…and yet, the one trap she missed ended Senju Nawaki. 

Ultimately, she felt that she had failed in her duty, somehow, and took her own life. Her suicide had disastrous consequences for the Inuzuka clan, and her children in particular.

Luckily, Gaku and Tsume ended up in the care of their grandmother, Inuzuka Mimi. Inuzuka's elderly matriarch had been presumed dead, until her miraculous survival in the wake of the fire that destroyed the clan compound was discovered. Supposedly, the clan’s ninken buried the elderly woman with their bodies and prevented her from being consumed by the fire that way. 

Civilian dissidents during the second war were blamed for the arson. He doubted it then, and he doubts it now.

Orochimaru sits up and sweeps his hair back from his face. Think about the facts, he tells himself. Think about anything that isn’t the lab.

The incident occurred nearly fourteen years ago, and Inuzuka Gaku was Nawaki’s teammate at the time. Had Mei not held her son in line by barking at him and pinching him for every toe out of line, he doesn’t doubt that Gaku may have also fallen victim to the explosive traps that claimed Nawaki’s life. And, had he and his grandmother not survived, Tsume (a toddler at the time) may very well have fallen into the custody of the village elders…

…Similarly, had Kakashi not pushed himself to graduate early as he did—the last Hatake scion would have also been placed with an elder.

Oh dear. That was not what he had in mind for distracting thoughts. He hates when his traitorous mind sets him on deeply disturbing tangents.

He scrubs his face and opens his eyes, finding himself inside his subconscious—his liminal space—instead.

“Sensei…? Are you okay?” Honōka asks. “You were thinking really hard about distressing things…”

He blinks his eyes, they are admittedly less than dry, and uncurls. He appeared as he is in the physical world—with his knees curled to his chest, like a child. He trusts Honōka won’t judge him for his uncouth sitting posture.

“Where on earth are you?” he inquires. “This lab is more than two hundred meters outside village wall.” He planned it that way when he relocated the Mokuton lab, after having an inkling of a suspicion on the nature of his student’s sensor abilities.

She sits next to him, leaning into his side.

“I can see nexuses farther than two hundred meters away with Shinryūgan now. Around five hundred meters if I really squint, I think.”

He tilts his head until he can rest his cheek on the top of his student’s head.

“And when did that happen?”

“I think, maybe when Iwa attacked the morning after the battle broke out? A lot happened. People blew up and died. Kakashi got impaled with a tent pole. It was really overwhelming.”

He curls his arm around her tiny shoulders and feels another pang of grief for the children of the Mokuton experiments. The oldest children were around four years old—all finally healthy weights and sizes after a long struggle to stabilize the First Hokage’s volatile DNA. Honōka is only barely taller than the largest boy... _was_.

He was preparing to decant them before he received the missive for his rotation of border patrol. Instead, he increased the amount of sedative in their tanks, and had the children sleep through the three month period he would be unable to provide adequate mental stimulation and enrichment for.

He hopes they did not wake up when Danzō ordered them 'decommissioned'—because there is no doubt in his mind that _that_ is what really happened. A flaming tongue of anger reaches up his throat and he clenches his jaw against it.

“Sensei…do you need help?”

“…”

“It’s okay, Sensei. I know.”

He squeezes her tightly, and lets out a stuttering breath. Of course she realizes what the sudden disappearance of sixty chakra signatures means. 

“It is…it’s a mess. It may take a while to properly clean up.”

“Kakashi and Minato will help. They understand.”

“The smell might be too much for Kakashi…but I suppose I could set him on the office. There is quite a bit of paperwork and documents to collect.”

Honōka nods, but makes no move to escape his one-armed constricting hug.

“It’s okay to cry, Sensei.”

It most certainly is not, he thinks.

Orochimaru sighs, and his hitched breath once again betrays him. He sweeps back his hair with his other hand and blinks glassy eyes. A single tear glides down his face.

He lifts his cheek off Honōka’s hair and wipes furiously at the offending tears. He chokes on a laugh. This liminal space business is far too realistic for his taste.

“I haven’t cried in years,” he admits. “Not since I was a child, younger than you are now.”

“That’s not good, Sensei. You’re supposed to cry when you feel sad or unhappy—it’s your body’s way of telling you something is wrong.”

He lets out a wet and gravely chuckle. The tears won’t stop.

“I think everything is wrong, right now.”

Honōka hugs into his side.

“It’s okay, Sensei. We’re going to help you make everything right again.”

Once Honōka has permission from Orochimaru-sensei, Minato teleports the three of them to the Hiraishin kunai placed in the middle of the lab's office space.

Sensei stands back, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and his eyes faintly red-rimmed.

Minato doesn’t have to steady Kakashi anymore during jumps, but he kind of forgot that Honōka wouldn’t be quite so used to it. She falls on her face before either he or Kakashi can catch her.

“Sorry, Honōka-chan!”

She flashes him a thumbs up from the floor, rubbing her nose.

Sensei clears his throat and gestures to the filing cabinets.

“I have storage scrolls prepared,” he rasps. “Honōka will familiarize you with my preferred filing system.”

Kakashi nods.

“When you finish showing Kakashi that, start on the cold storage room. The storage scroll for _those_ items is beside the microscope.”

“Yes, Sensei.”

He passes Minato a gas mask.

“…The chemicals and biological materials should be inert, but one can never be too careful.”

He nods.

Sensei leads him to an airlock and Minato feels the first tinge of uneasiness. It must be bad if he wouldn’t even let Honōka help him. Sensei offers no warnings, though.

His first thought is, “Green.”

“It is, isn’t it.”

Ah. He didn’t mean to say that out loud—but it really is green. Vines and moss and…algae? Plants of every kind grow on most every surface. Most don’t even look like anything he’s ever seen before.

And then he sees it—a small glass tank, smashed from the outside-in, by the looks of the glass shards resting at the bottom of the thick green jelly substance. Some of it has evaporated out, leaving a creeping stain on what glass remains whole.

It looks like that might have been where Sensei began cleaning up. The moss is scraped back from the yellow-green stained tiles around the tank, and there’s a dark blood stain dried and caked onto the floor there.

Minato takes a deep breath.

He’s so angry—mostly at Danzō, but also at the other elders; at Sandaime-sama, too; and at Jiraiya-sensei for not being around to see the village’s corruption.

He wants to be mad at Orochimaru-sensei. And yet, he’s not—can’t bring himself to feel anything but sympathy for the man as he plucks moss off the floor, his shoulders trembling under the flak jacket he has yet to rid himself of.

Minato finds a handful of laminated flash cards as he cleans a desk—hiragana characters on one side and katakana on the other side. He finds more as he clears moss and vines off a long counter. The second lot of cards are slightly larger, with diagrams of the Konoha-standard shinobi sign language—each sign lovingly illustrated by hand, on brightly colored paper.

Minato feels tears prickle in his own eyes. He was teaching them, like they were his students…like they were his own children.

He puts the cards in a pile on the desk he cleared earlier and tackles the rest of the broken tanks while Sensei is pulling vines out of the ceiling lights. He says nothing of the shard of glass with the mossy katakana characters _‘te, n, zo, u,’_ growing on it. He won’t bring it to Sensei’s attention—it’s just too sad. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm feeling really ambitious this month. I'm still writing chapters for this and (hopefully) 50k more for an original story I've been working on for _literal_ years. 
> 
> Seriously—ten years.
> 
> So, this is my life now, and writing more doesn't necessarily mean you write better. Please point out if I make any glaring mistakes because I feel like my brains might soon start leaking out my ears.


	78. show up within the week.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re full of shit!” Tsunade cackles. “If I contact him, he’ll respond two months late and say ‘Sorry, I was busy with my research!’ and draw a frog in the margins, or something.”

With the lab packed and cleared, Orochimaru returns not to his main lab, but to his jōnin apartment. He sends Minato and the kids off with his checkbook to treat themselves to whatever they please while he retreats for a much needed break.

He mostly uses his apartment for storage—and occasionally for the soaking tub. The lab only has a shower, as is practical.

That’s precisely the luxury he’s looking for at the moment. He relishes washing off the road dust and chemical residue, and allows himself exactly twenty minutes to soak in the tub.

Then he goes to find Tsunade.

He finds her at the nearest bar on his way to the hospital, having her usual nightcap. He thinks it must have been a long and busy day if she’s already looking for her nightly fix—it’s only eighteen hundred.

“Tsunade.” He greets, taking the stool next to her. “This is…” not unusual in the least. “…”

“Finish that sentence and I’ll break your teeth, Orochimaru.”

Tetchy.

“I take it you had a less than pleasant day at the hospital.”

She snorts. 

“Good job not dying, by the way.” Tsunade downs her cup of sake. “Too bad you didn’t kill the bastard.”

“There were more important things to be concerned with at that time.”

“Like what?”

“My students.”

“Students…plural?” Tsunade frowns for a moment. “You stole Minato and Kakashi, didn’t you?”

He scoffs at her. “It is not stealing if they agree, Tsunade.”

Tsunade laughs and kicks her legs, excitedly.

“Jiraiya is going to be _so_ mad when he comes home!”

“Yes. Let’s hope he comes home soon.”

Tsunade, even buzzed, senses the duality of his statement.

“Why? You need him for something?” she bounces her knee. _Fūinjutsu?_ She silently asks.

He makes a noncommittal sound and swirls his finger around the edge of her sake cup a few times. _Complicated._

“I need both of you for a little project I have in mind for Sensei’s birthday.”

She opens her mouth and he interrupts her, leaning into her space.

“Preferably sober—and somewhere private, Tsunade-hime.”

She pouts and turns on the charm, though her eyes narrow dangerously at him. She hates to get involved with politics—even though she has a keen eye for it.

“I didn’t think you were that kind of guy, Orochimaru.” She titters, voice husky.

He rolls his eyes at her and offers his arm out to her.

“Trust me, Tsunade, I am not.” He whispers.

_“Still?”_

“Yes, _still.”_

“Boo.”

She clings to his arm with exaggerated drunkenness. “My place or your place?” she asks, next to his ear, and he nearly drops her on her ass then and there.

“I am likely being observed. Please behave.”

Her eyes dart around and she whispers without moving her lips. “Senju compound?”

It’ll raise Danzō suspicions—but Tsunade can make very convincing rumors. He despairs at the thought of his apparent sexual exploits being part of the rumor mill for the next six months, possibly longer, but he really needs to speak to his former teammate.

Hopefully, when she hears him out, she does not decide to put him six feet under in the sealed Senju compound.

  
“I’m sorry— _what!?_ You dug up my grandfather’s grave?!”

Predictably, that’s what finally makes Tsunade lose her temper.

“In my defense, I was ordered to do so by Danzō, and with the permission of the elders.”

Tsunade lunges at him, arm raised to punch him square in the face, and he does not move. He deserves whatever she decides to hit him with, he thinks.

Her fist stops centimeters away from his nose, and her chest heaves as she draws angry breaths in through her nose and out through her mouth. She draws back.

“That’s bullshit and you know it. Tobi-jī-san outlawed the Mokuton experiments after the horror that was the first batch of tests. He made it clear to everyone—and especially to Sensei—that the whole thing should have been forbidden to attempt in the first place. Homura and Koharu should have known better than to agree…”

“Whether they knowingly allowed the experiments to be resumed under my care or were coerced is still debatable.” He reminds her. Personally—he thinks the elders, Honōka’s so called couch ninjas, are in Danzō’s pocket of their own volition.

Tsunade rubs her temples. “Back up a minute. Danzō has been controlling a shadow organization called Root, supposedly with Sensei’s permission—since shortly after Tobi-jī-san died?”

“Yes.”

 _“Why?”_ Tsunade asks. “Why not just take over Anbu instead?”

Orochimaru snorts.

“Because he did not want Anbu, obviously—clearly too high profile for his tastes.”

“Too regulated, you mean.”

“That too.”

“So, you joined Root when you were twelve- _fucking_ -years-old?”

“Yes.”

“And the very first thing that creep did was put a seal on your tongue…which prevented you from ever speaking about Root to anyone but the other Root agents and Danzō. However, thanks to Honōka, the seal is now partially broken.”

“Yes.”

Tsunade paces the yard. She’s wearing a path in the overgrown grass.

“Danzō…that creep, he regularly recruits orphans and grooms them into his perfect little agents…?”

He nods.

“You think he had his eye on the Inuzuka heiress in the past, and that the explosive trap…that Nawaki… You think he might even be responsible for the start of the third war, and that Hatake Sakumo was intentionally driven to commit suicide—because Danzō is trying to isolate Kakashi, to recruit him…?"

"Yes."

“And, a Root agent tried to kidnap Honōka during border patrol, because her kekkei genkai, her dōjutsu, is new and also the perfect counter to an evolved Sharingan he stole from Uchiha Kagami roughly a quarter of a century ago.”

Tsunade stops pacing.

“Fugaku really thinks he could be controlling Sensei with that Kotoamatsukami thing?”

He nods again and Tsunade sits down heavily on the creaking wooden engawa framing the old Senju compound.

“Fuck.” She says. “You dug up Ojī-sama? _Really?_ Were you at least successful?”

“…the subjects were disposed of, by Danzō, to remind me of my place.”

Tsunade pales. “You were close to the subjects?”

He gingerly sits down next to her.

“They were babies, Tsunade. Infants.” 

He drops his head into his hands, letting his black hair form a curtain between them in the cool darkness of the November night. If he cries again, she won't see it.

“Some were preemies, not expected to live—declared dead and already barely clinging to life. Some were young war orphans with missing limbs and crushed organs, brought to me to 'fix'. Some were even Konoha street children with rudimentary knowledge—old enough to want a ‘shinobi’ education but young enough to not realize they were consigning their lives away. Others were bought from the red-light district as unwanted children; those were mostly males, because the female children _might_ eventually be _useful_.” He hisses that last part—because he'd been outraged when Danzō wouldn’t let him offer more for those children as well.

The hiss turns into something shaky and weak. He _hates_ it.

“There were sixty, at the beginning, and now there are none.”

Tsunade should be livid with him, and he flinches when he feels her hand come down on his back. She could so easily break him in two.

She draws him into her chest, hugging him about the head.

“I…I’m so sorry, Orochimaru. This wouldn’t have ever happened if I’d just been a better teammate—been less _selfish.”_

He disguises his hiccup as a snort. When has Tsunade ever been anything but selfless? Every free moment spent at the hospital, either treating injuries and illnesses, teaching others, or testing new healing techniques. Not to mention, she _very_ intentionally gambles with anyone who looks like they could use some spare cash.

No, Tsunade’s problem isn’t that she cares too much about _herself_ —it’s that she cares _too_ much about others.

She hugs him for a moment longer and finally lets go, and dares to push his hair behind his ear for him. He halfheartedly pushes her hand away.

“So. What’s the plan?”

“A coup, or as Honōka calls it, a revolution.”

Tsunade winces.

“Wonderful. I take it Fugaku is in? Will he be able to convince his father?”

“The issue with Uchiha Kagami’s eye binds the Uchiha to seek justice. We just have to prove it is a Sharingan behind those bandages.”

“And the young heads of Inoshikachō? Will their clans really allow them to decide whether they participate in a potential civil war?”

“Torifu is backing young Chōza—and despite what the Nara will have you believe, it is the Akimichi that actually decide which battles they fight.”

Tsunade nods.

“So, we have the Uchiha; the Yamanaka, Nara, and Akimichi clans. We have Gaku and Chairo from the Inuzuka Clan. Then we have you, me, Minato, Kushina, and the bloody Kyūbi. And you want Jiraiya on ‘Team Revolution’ too?”

“I need someone to remove the Root seal. As long as I have it, my memories cannot be used as damning evidence against Danzō. Certain topics are still difficult for me to put into words, as well.”

“Okay—so we contact Jiraiya. Have you tried yet?”

“…”

“Orochimaru…?”

He clears his throat. “You should contact him—he listens to you.” Sometimes.

“You’re full of shit!” Tsunade cackles. “If I contact him, he’ll respond two months late and say ‘Sorry, I was busy with my research!’ and draw a frog in the margins, or something.”

Toad, he thinks, but doesn’t correct her.

“And if I contact him?”

“…He’ll either ignore you completely, or show up within the week.”


	79. good health

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So, let me review: three cases of chakra exhaustion; one case of exposure to a questionable narcotic substance for a period of one week, or longer; surgical removal of a rogue kikaichū colony, in the field; _and_ a ruptured coil, specifically the tenketsu point also known as the seventh gate.”
> 
> Tsunade pauses for dramatic effect.
> 
> “How are you _not_ dead, kid?”

“Honōka?” Kakashi asks the dark shadow standing in his apartment entryway. “What are you doing?”

“…couldn’t sleep.”

He wants to call her a baby, but he wasn’t exactly sleeping either.

He turns on the light and yes, there’s Honōka, in her pajamas, with her futon and comforter balled up in her arms.

“…you didn’t have to break in—I would have answered if you knocked.” Knocked in tap code, using their secret coded message, obviously.

She shrugs. “I have a technique for unlocking doors and windows, remember?”

He’s pretty sure that still counts as breaking into his apartment.

“Do you want tea?”

She nods and kicks off her slippers, going to sit at the little table in his combined kitchen and living space. She throws down her futon and wraps the comforter around herself. He puts on the kettle and brings her a bag of rice crackers.

Minato checked both of their apartments for bugs earlier in the day—and disposed of them all—so he at least feels safe enough to be in his own apartment…but sleeping is a different matter. Clearly, Honōka feels the same way.

“Are there any child snatchers—Root agents, nearby?”

Orochimaru-sensei was finally able to put a name on the child snatchers, and Kakashi is trying to get into the habit of calling them by it. It’s…slightly less frightening than calling them child snatchers.

Sensei can say things in general terms now—but not specific—since Honōka ‘loosened’ the seal. He still can’t nail down specific events that he witnessed in person, but he can make as many educated speculations as he wants. That includes things he noticed, like the possibility Danzō had something to do with the mission his father was on…

“There are two.” Honōka grins. “One’s a sensor type.”

“…you’re annoying the hell out of them, aren’t you?”

She taps her finger on the low table and Kakashi snorts as he translates her ‘annoying’ song. She occasionally throws in an insult, such as ‘your breath smells like dog shit’. He shakes his head at her.

“How far are you broadcasting that?”

“Just two hundred meters.”

He rolls his eyes at her to hide his unease. They’re that close? How is she _not_ worried about that?

“Are you keeping anyone up in the genin apartments?”

She shakes her head.

“I’m being quiet to everyone else, mostly. It shouldn’t be loud enough to bother anyone sensitive. The Root sensor has a clockwise rotation, so I’m intentionally projecting at their exact frequency and amplitude, in reverse.”

“…Why?”

“I think it screws with their sensory perception. I did it to Kōmori-san once, and he told me off for it.”

“Has Sensei ever told you your sense of self-preservation is questionable?”

Honōka nibbles on a rice cracker. “Yeah, why?”

He sighs. “No reason.”

She sticks her tongue out at him.

“Gross, Honōka! Swallow your food before you do that!”

She takes his advice and tries again, crossing her eyes at the same time. He rolls his eyes at her, _again,_ and gets up when the kettle starts singing.

“Black tea or green tea?”

“You don’t have chamomile or peppermint?”

“I would have offered if I did.” He replies, deadpan.

“Right.” Honōka yawns. “Green tea, please.”

He nods and fills the small teapot with a couple spoons of tealeaves. The teapot was his mother’s favorite, according to his father—because he made it himself. It’s just plain clay with a small paw print on the round, flat lid. A puppy sized paw print. He wonders if it was Chokorēto’s, or Pokkī’s. It’s too small to have been Sushi’s.

He carefully sets down the teapot and Honōka suddenly jumps up, throwing off her blanket.

“I’m going to punch them.” She announces.

She stomps towards the balcony door and reaches for the curtain. He tackles her to the floor before she can open it.

“Kakashi, let go! I’m just going to punch them in the head, with my foot!”

“That’s called a kick, Honōka…! And—why?!”

“They’re calling Sensei bad names!”

“…”

Tempting as it is to open the curtain and flip them the bird, that’s probably exactly what they want them to do.

“Can’t you just mess them up with more of that frequency stuff?” Kōmori used to complain about her being loud and annoying all the time, so why not?

“…Fine.”

Honōka concentrates and a chill goes down his spine. He rolls off her, slowly.

“Did…did you just hit them with killing intent…?!”

She glances over at him, where he feels like he’s melting into the floor.

“Oops,” she says, “too much?”

He nods. “Just a bit.”

There’s a bang on his door. He stiffens.

“Kakashi! You okay in there?!” Genma shouts.

Kakashi lets out the breath he was holding.

“I’m just mind-murdering the child snatchers!” Honōka cheerfully calls back. “Ooh, I scared them away!”

Genma lets himself in, kicking off his slippers in the entryway.

“You are doing _what?”_

“Mind-murdering child snatchers,” Kakashi repeats, dumbfounded. “Apparently.”

“You do realize you probably just woke _everyone_ in the goddamn neighborhood, right?”

Honōka frowns. “Whoops.” She glances to the left and winces. “Sorry, Minato!” She calls. Right. She still has half a dozen Hiraishin kunai somewhere in her apartment.

Minato barges into his apartment next, looking a little crazyeyed.

“What did you _do,_ Honōka-chan?!”

She crosses her arms. “The child snatchers were harassing me, so I told them to scram.”

“Do you _think_ they got the message?!”

Honōka bites her lip to keep from laughing. When Minato gets overwhelmed, he suddenly understands how to use sarcasm.

“I think so. They ran away.”

“I wonder why.”

Kakashi doesn’t jump when Orochimaru-sensei lets himself in through the balcony door. Genma screams and hides behind Minato.

Honōka flashes Sensei her biggest, _brightest,_ smile, pointy little teeth gleaming. _Dimples,_ he thinks.

“Sensei! Everyone’s here—we should have a tea party!”

Sensei fixes Honōka with a stern look.

“…No?” she asks.

“Finish your tea and go to bed, Honōka.”

She pouts. “Fine…”

He’s not afraid to go to sleep after Sensei and Minato show up immediately after Honōka ‘mind-murders’ the Root agents. He feels much better knowing they’re nearby, watching the situation.

He closes his eyes and the next morning comes all too soon.

“House call!” Senju Tsunade calls.

Why does everyone just let themselves in? He blearily looks up from his futon, which he brought out to the living room after Honōka insisted they have a sleepover.

And, despite them having separate futons and separate blankets, Honōka is sprawled halfway across him, using his chest as a pillow and hugging him across the belly with her leg. He winces and shoves her back onto her own futon. 

“…too bright…!” she complains, and promptly rolls herself in her blanket, like a makizushi roll.

Tsunade chuckles at them and he adjusts his mask.

“Tsunade-sama, good morning.” He greets, sitting up fully. “…Why are you here?”

“I said, didn’t I? House call. Orochimaru didn’t tell you?”

He shakes his head.

“Tch, what a jerk, hey? Didn’t even give you a heads-up to run away?” She steps out of her heeled sandals and sits down next to him. “I hear you got impaled by a tent pole.”

…Why does everyone have to say it like that? Getting impaled by a tent pole doesn’t sound very shinobi like…

“Come on, wake up, Kakashi.” Tsunade says. “I need to have a look at that wound.”

“…it’s not a wound—it’s a scar.”

She gives him an unimpressed look and he quickly pulls up his shirt. Tsunade prods at it for a moment and he winces again.

“Yep, that’s a rush job, alright. Lie down so I can fix you up properly.”

He doesn’t protest and does as she says. The feeling like a twisted knob in his gut immediately goes away—numbing jutsu? He wishes every medic-nin knew that technique.

He makes the mistake of looking down, and sees a large dark reddish splinter slowly making it’s way out of his body. Oh. _Yuck._ He looks away and counts the seconds and minutes.

“All finished.”

He hurriedly nods.

“Massage the scar often, pushing and pulling—gently!—left, right, up, and down, on the scar tissue. It’ll get stiff if you don’t.”

“Yes, Tsunade-sama.”

“Alright, now on to the sleeping brat.”

“Her feet are ticklish,” he tells her.

Honōka pulls her knees up to her chest, tucking her feet in.

“…No they’re not.”

Tsunade snorts. “Get out here, Honōka, or I’ll find out where else you’re ticklish.”

Honōka very reluctantly unrolls herself and sits, hair sticking out everywhere and blinks against the muted light shining through his thin curtains.

“So, let me review: three cases of chakra exhaustion; one case of exposure to a questionable narcotic substance for a period of one week, or longer; surgical removal of a rogue kikaichū colony, in the field; _and_ a ruptured coil, specifically the tenketsu point also known as the seventh gate.”

Tsunade pauses for dramatic effect.

“How are you _not_ dead, kid?”

“Didn’t Sensei tell you? I tried that already—didn’t like it.”

Tsunade puts her face in her hands for a moment, sighs deeply, and then lifts her head again.

“Can you at least promise me you’re not trying to go for a repeat performance? I don’t think Orochimaru could handle it if you died and stayed dead.”

Honōka frowns, considers Tsunade’s words, and nods—solemnly. “I promise.”

“Good girl.”

Tsunade roughly pats her head, though noogie might be the word he’s really looking for. Honōka protests the treatment.

“Alright, show me this white ring Orochimaru was telling me about.”

Honōka looks confused, and glances at her arm.

“My summoning formula?” she asks.

“No, a white ring on your belly, where Ōnoki’s Dust Release technique exploded from…” Tsunade trails off, whispering, “He _gave_ you his summoning formula…?”

Honōka ignores the last part, pulling her shirt up halfway to look at her belly button, questioningly. There’s no mark.

“Hm, did it heal?” Tsunade mutters. Her hands glow green after she uses a two modified hand seals. She ghosts over Honōka’s stomach. “I’m not feeling anything unusual…”

Tsunade concentrates and works in silence for a couple minutes.

“Well,” she says, “you survived three back-to-back episodes of chakra exhaustion without any lasting consequences to your Chakra Pathway System; poisoning with no liver damage; a kikaichū infestation and surgery with zero scarring, external or internal; and a non-existent hole blown through your seventh gate. Congratulations, Honōka—you’re in perfectly good health.”

_Somehow._


	80. book murdering arsonist.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Sensei, Sensei! What’s so funny? Don’t laugh at me! I know where you live! I’ll steal the eggs in your fridge and every time you look for them they'll all be gone!”

Tsunade leaves for the hospital after taking care of Kakashi’s lingering stomach pain and pronouncing her in good health. 

They make themselves a simple breakfast with the few ingredients they have on hand—rice, miso paste, canned tuna, and pickled vegetables. They’ll have to go grocery shopping, soon. And Kakashi still owes her the special manjū set from Ichiban Manjū.

She’s not interested in grocery shopping at the moment though—or in cleaning her dusty apartment. She drags Kakashi with her to the Third Training Ground, where Sensei and Minato are, instead.

“Good morning, Sensei!” she shouts. She feints tackling him for a hug and jumps on Minato’s back instead. He grunts. “Good morning, Minato. You seem tense?”

He sighs and adjusts her grip around his neck, so that she is not choking him.

“Kushina is…not happy with the plan.” He sighs, again. “And not _at all_ happy with me, either…”

She pats him on the cheek. “Did she break up with you?”

He sputters. “…No…! I mean, I don’t think so?”

“That’s good, because she’s coming this way now.”

“What?!” Minato gulps. “Is she still mad?”

Honōka considers.

“A little? A lot frustrated. Concerned.”

Sensei snorts.

“I told you, Minato, you were reading the situation completely wrong.”

Minato lets out a shaky breath. “I sure hope so!”

Kushina flickers into sight and marches up to them. She stops in front of Minato and puts her hands on her hips. She’s very unimpressed.

“Tell me this isn’t everyone, dattebane.”

He must not have gotten very far in his explanations before Kushina lost her temper with him. Minato is a big softy (more so than usual) when it comes to his girlfriend, so it’s not surprising he retreated when things got tense.

Kushina’s the only one wearing jōnin attire today, which is kind of unusual. Sensei and Minato practically live in their jōnin blues, even when they’re not on border patrol.

Sensei is wearing a dark purple haori with a with a very subtle magatama pattern on the lighter purple collar, closed with a white obi, and earth toned monpe pants. It’s warm enough that they’ve all ditched their winter jackets. 

Well, it feels warm compared to border patrol in the northwest, she thinks.

Minato is wearing ratty gray sweatpants and a navy sweater with a stretched out neckline. He’s wearing leather slide on sandals, and if it weren’t November she would ask him where he got them. 

She and Kakashi are both wearing black long sleeve shirts and gray draw string pants. She’s pretty sure she’s wearing Kakashi’s shirt though. He stretches the hem on the wrists out by constantly rolling his sleeves up to his elbows. She must have mixed them up the last time she did laundry, sometime before they went on border patrol. She does both their laundry and he maintains both their weapons, so it’s a fair deal.

She gives Kushina a thumbs up. “It’s not everyone!”

Kushina facepalms.

“Honōka-chan, Kakashi, why on earth are you two even part of this mess, ‘ttebane?”

Kakashi points his thumb at her. “Honōka’s the cornerstone. Everyone else got involved along the way.”

Kushina sighs. “You guys are just little kids, ya know?”

“Honōka’s technically older than you, Kushina-nē.”

Kushina pushes her hitai-ate up and rubs her forehead.

“I know, I know. Minato told me that much, ‘ttebane… I’m not sure I believe it, but there’s millennia old monster fox sealed inside me, so who am I ta say?”

There’s a moment of silence as, predictably, no one knows what to say.

“Alright. Ya said something about someone needing help with a seal removal. What are we looking at here?”

A hopeful surge of joy flushes Minato’s cheeks. “Does this mean you’re in?” he asks.

“Duh,” Kushina snorts. “I can’t let my boyfriend plot a coup without me, dummy!”

Honōka hurriedly lets go and stumbles back as Minato tackles his girlfriend around the waist. He picks her up and spins way too fast with Kushina tossed over one shoulder.

“Kushina, you’re the best!” he exclaims over her halfhearted protests to be put down. Sensei and Kakashi (fondly) roll their eyes at the display.

Honōka tugs on Sensei’s sleeve. “Kushina-san can help remove the Root seal, right?”

Sensei ruffles her fair. “That is the hope.”

Unfortunately, Sensei’s memories are still sealed and thus unviewable by anyone else. And, without his memories, it will be difficult to fully convince everyone else that they’re in the right when they go after Danzō.

Fugaku hasn't contacted them since arriving back in the village, so he's probably having trouble convincing his father. Uchiha-ku feels vaguely unsettled at the moment, so Honōka knows he's brought it up to his clan, at least.

Minato finally lets Kushina down and she runs a hand through her long, long, hair, detangling her ponytail. Minato helps her.

“So, Orochimaru-san, how can I help ya?”

He gestures her over and sticks out his tongue. Kushina doesn't even bat an eyelash. Whatever she did to the seal allows him to at least show the seal without struggling anymore, so Kushina is able to get a clear look at it.

“It’s a bit damaged. When did that happen?”

“Honōka-chan messed it up from inside Sensei’s liminal space—ah, his subconscious mind.” Minato informs her.

Kushina worriedly lifts her hand, as though she wants to prod the seal, and Sensei forks his tongue at her, which definitely deters her from actually touching. Kushina turns her worrying on Honōka instead.

“Ya got ta be real careful with seals like these, Honōka-chan—ya could really hurt your Sensei!”

Honōka shrugs, too busy transforming her tongue to look like Sensei's to answer her properly. Besides, what was she supposed to do? Sensei would have died if she hadn't broken it a little. The thin prongs get stuck between the gaps in her sharp little teeth and she winces. It's harder than she thought!

“Minato, do ya have your notes with ya?”

He nods and takes out a small scroll from his pants pocket, then takes a larger scroll out of that scroll, and two brushes—plus an inkwell. 

Kushina looks at the seal on Sensei’s tongue for another moment and then sits down, pulling Minato’s notes into her lap.

Honōka frowns. She was hoping Kushina would immediately know what to do with it.

Kushina hums and haws at the notes.

“It’s hard ta know what will and won’t work with seals using unknown coding…ya really want to decode it fully and with absolute certainty before attempting anything.”

Sensei breathes in deeply, and slowly. He’s not surprised, or particularly disappointed. This is the outcome he was anticipating then.

“I could probably rip it off, if it were anywhere else. But, as ya guessed, that seal is tied ta the gate o’ opening. I really don’t wanna risk pulling on any vital tenketsu, ‘ttebane.”

Sensei nods.

“I’m sure me and Minato can figure it out,” Kushina says. “It’s just gonna take us some time ta do it.”

They don’t have a lot of time to figure it out. They need all the allies they can get, and Danzō will definitely try to split up any and all potential allies the moment he can. They’re working with a two week window, more or less—the usual down time granted after long durations of border patrol.

“I have contacted Jiraiya on the matter—”

“Oh!” Kushina shouts, excited. “The ol’ perv is great at making and breaking codes. We’ll have it figured out in no time with his help.”

“Yes,” Sensei responds, dryly. He doesn’t like being interrupted. “That is the idea. Hopefully he responds to my message, _promptly.”_

“Did you send a snake, Sensei?” she asks. “Can the snakes even find someone if they don’t know where to look?”

He pats her hair again. “Snakes have no trouble hunting down toads, Honōka.”

“Ah, Sensei…?” Minato chuckles, nervously. “What kind of message did you send Jiraiya-sensei?”

Sensei hides his mouth with his kimono sleeve to cover his mischievous grin.

“I threatened to burn his book collection.”

Minato squeaks and she shoots Sensei a horrified look.

“Sensei, _no!_ You can’t threaten to burn _any_ books!” It’s too horrible to imagine!

“They are _terrible_ books, Honōka—hardly fit for publication.”

She glares. “All books deserve to be read and cherished.”

Sensei turns away and laughs at her. She grabs the end of his haori and shakes. He can’t stop laughing for some reason.

“Sensei, Sensei! What’s so funny? Don’t laugh at me! I know where you live! I’ll steal the eggs in your fridge and every time you look for them they'll all be gone!”

That just makes him laugh harder. Minato is so embarrassed for some reason, and Kushina is confused, but also slightly concerned.

“Ah. I think Honōka-chan broke Orochimaru-san.”

"Maa, maybe a little." Kakashi agrees.

“Guys!” she complains. “Sensei’s laughing at me and I don’t get it! What’s so funny?”

Minato shakes his head, refusing to answer. His entire face is red. Kushina holds her chin in one hand and considers, eyes narrowing into a cute little squint.

“Honōka-chan, you’ll probably understand when you’re older, ya know?”

She abruptly lets go of Sensei’s haori as understanding dawns on her. She screws up her nose.

“Sensei…did you threaten to burn his _porn collection?!”_

Kakashi makes an exaggerated gagging sound and Minato quickly tries to cover Kakashi’s ears. He smacks his hands away.

She scowls at Sensei, who is slowly collecting himself.

“Sensei, if Jiraiya-san doesn’t come back to Konoha, you’re going to become a terrible book murdering arsonist. Even if they are gross adult books, I do _not_ approve.” She stands by her earlier statement—all books deserve to be read and cherished—even if some books are…well, they say there are even bugs that eat knotweed.

Sensei fixes his haori that she’s pulled askew and pets her head again. She allows it, even if she’s stubbornly pouting and crossing her arms.

“Honōka, you are a gem.”

The pouts softens as her will crumbles and she feels her cheeks getting all rosy-like. She throws her nose up and harrumphs.

“Hmph!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 蓼食う虫も好き好き (Tade kuu mushi mo sukizuki) Literally: There are even bugs that eat knotweed. 
> 
> Basically, Honōka is saying there's no accounting for taste, specifically taste in literature. She ain't judging--yet!


	81. “White-haired Jiji!”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The ground is cold and lateral undulation is hard.” And rectilinear locomotion (the caterpillar crawl) is slow and looks silly.

They split up. Minato and Kushina head off to Minato’s apartment to study the Root seal in more detail; Sensei goes to see Tsunade on her lunch break, and she drags Kakashi to the market to get their grocery shopping out of the way. Because, if she doesn’t do it now, Honōka knows she’ll spend the next week eating manjū and takeaway sushi.

By the time they finish and return to the genin apartments with their groceries, Genma is arriving back from the Academy.

He’s also carrying a dozen bottles of Ramune in a small wooden crate, sporting a lazy grin.

“Ooh, everyone’s coming _here?”_ she says.

Genma shrugs. “We actually wanted to throw you guys a surprise party, since you both came back in one piece and all…but, _shinobi._ And, you’re a sensor too, so I knew it was never going to work.”

She laughs. “Genma, did you just intentionally ruin our surprise party?”

“You’re welcome,” he smirks. He knows Kakashi appreciates the warning. “You really should have waited to buy groceries, by the way. You're not going to be able to _even_ look at food after we're done with you.”

Honōka frowns and scans for the rest of her friends, who are, indeed, browsing food stalls in Akimichi-chō. Her mouth salivates at the thought of the goodies they’ll bring.

Kakashi side-eyes her.

“Maa…I don’t think it’ll be a problem, Genma. You know what Honōka’s appetite is like.”

“Voracious.” Genma agrees. “Are you sure you don’t have worms, Honōka?”

She shivers. Ugh— _bugs—_ in her tummy. _Never again._

“No,” Kakashi replies. “But she did have a kikaichū infestation.”

“Ah! No talking about it!” she scratches her belly and then rubs her arms down. “I get itchy just thinking about it!”

Kakashi bumps shoulders with her, apologetically. 

“Come on. Let’s put these groceries away before Obito gets here and steals all our snacks.”

“I hope they bring back takoyaki!”

Naturally, their ‘surprise’ party gets a little…out of hand.

Rin plans, Asuma pays, and Kurenai makes sure _everyone_ knows where the party is. Then Honōka and Kakashi do their best to put up with it all and not run for cover.

There’s free food—and gifts!—and party games too, so it’s not _all_ bad. Just—Honōka doesn’t even know half these people. It gives her a bit of a headache, poking at all these stranger's liminal spaces.

Might Duy and Maruboshi Kosuke are onsite again to operate a DIY grill and supervise the little-littles, and several familiar faces from border patrol have migrated over from the chūnin apartments to play koi koi.

Kakashi and Guy are sprawled on their backs next to her and Obito, having both just lost a yakitori eating competition. Rin fans them with a traditional uchiwa fan borrowed from Obito—who arrived wearing a festival style yukata with calico cats and goldfish on it. It’s super cute, so Fūbuki-obā-san probably bullied him into wearing it.

“Guy,” Obito says, patting his belly dramatically. “Your dad and Kosuke-ji make the best yakitori.”

Guy groans pitifully on the ground. “You are a worthy adversary, Uchiha Obito…! Please be my third rival!”

Honōka giggles. It took an eating competition for Guy to see Obito as a potential rival? _Really?_

“Eh,” Obito says. “Can I say no? Some of your rivalry contests are kinda stupid.”

“Your face is kind of stupid,” she sticks her transformed tongue out at Obito, wagging the forks at him. “Mlem!”

 _“Your_ face is stupid!” he shouts back, pulling on his already large and frankly ridiculous monkey ears. He usually hides them with his goggles. 

Guy groans and rolls onto his side. 

“You guys are _so_ youthful. I think I’m going to throw up…!”

“Please don’t, Guy.” Kakashi begs. “If you throw up, I’m definitely going to.”

Obito laughs at them, abandoning the face-making competition. He knows he’ll lose—he always loses. It’s kind of hard to beat someone who can henge their face at will.

“You guys are so weak! It’s just a bit of yakitori. It’ll burn off in a bit if you get up and move around.”

Kakashi and Guy groan again—they don’t even want to think about moving. Rin fans them a little faster.

“Obito, that’s not how the digestive tract works.” Rin tells him. “It takes time to digest food—not movement.”

“Are you sure, Rin?” Obito asks. “’Cause I just move the chakra in my belly and the food burns up.”

Honōka considers. His fiery blue-black nexus did burn brighter during their eating contest. She snorts. It sounds like he was cheating by literally igniting his metabolism. 

“Obito, I think that’s cheating.” Rin says.

“No, it’s not. Guy and Kakashi could have done the same thing. It’s not hard, right, Honōka?”

She gives him a thumbs up. She cheated too, after all—though her method differed slightly. 

There’s a flicker of amusement from Sensei and she grins. Feels like he just found out about their party.

“Kakashi, Kakashi! Sensei's on his way with Tsunade-san,” she grabs his shin and shakes. “Pull yourself together! We gotta clean her out at the poker tables!”

“Honōka-chan!” Rin chastises. “That’s very unfair of you!”

Obito laughs and points at Rin. “You’re just jealous because you always lose too!”

Rin pouts. “Who is it that had ‘Legendary Sucker’ painted on their chest last time?”

Obito blushes. “That’s…that’s because I was letting you win!”

Rin snorts delicately and deliberately looks away from him, returning to fanning the other two boys.

“Are Minato and Kushina-nē coming too?” Kakashi asks.

She checks. “No. They’re still at Minato’s apartment.”

Kakashi nods. 

“Should we get them?” 

He shakes his head.

“It’s noisy enough here as is.”

And Sensei’s seal is a tad bit more important than an impromptu party. Still though…she doesn’t like leaving Minato out.

She gets up to go greet Sensei and Tsunade, leaving Kakashi in Rin's capable hands.

“Another party, Honōka?” Sensei teases. 

Tsunade chuckles. She’s eying the koi koi tables already.

“Rin organized it, Asuma funded it—same as before.” She reports.

“Only this time, Minato is not here to make it obnoxiously loud.” Sensei observes.

She nods. She wishes he were here. It’s not the same without everyone together. 

Sensei doesn’t miss her pout. He fluffs up her long bangs, pushing them out of her eyes.

“Call him and Kushina over then. An hour or two of ‘play’ will not make a significant difference.”

“Really?”

He tweaks the braided section of her hair. Rin plaited it for her earlier and tied it off with a little glass bead. One of Obito’s cousins is a glassblower by trade, and let them pick out a bead for her. It’s cute—like a little hollow cat’s eye marble.

“This is getting quite long. Are you planning on letting it all grow out?”

“Hm, nope. Can you cut my hair for me again, Sensei?”

Technically, she can just transfer what she doesn't want to her liminal space, or even break it down and have it increase the density of her skin, or something. She's been experimenting with her transmorphing ability recently, and the layering technique she uses for her sword hand is applicable to a lot of things.

Even so, she likes when Sensei cuts her hair.

He nods. “Soon.”

She smiles at him and shakes off his hand so she can summon a snake to go invite Minato and Kushina to the party. 

Honōka bites her thumb on her sharp and pointy teeth. It started with one canine that she intentionally sharpened, and spread from there. She should probably straighten them out and blunt them down again, but she likes the way it makes people look at her mouth instead of her eyes.

She summons Jorō. She usually summons Kohaku, but he's big and tends to get uncomfortable when there are lots of people around. He's a little shy!

“Hi, Jorō-chan. Sorry to summon you when it’s cold out.”

Jorō sways happily at her. “It’s no problem for me, Honōka-chan, I am thick skinned! What can I help you with today?”

“It’s just a small favor. Can you have someone relay a message to Minato and Uzumaki Kushina? They’re at the jōnin apartments on the other side of Konoha.”

Jorō flicks her tongue, nodding.

“Of course, Honōka-chan! I can relay the message myself.”

“Thanks Jorō-chan! Can you tell Minato and Kushina that Sensei says it’s okay to take a break, and that we’re having a party at the genin apartments?”

Jorō bobs her head. “I’ll be back in a flash!”

She coils into a spring shape and flickers away. Honōka thinks the snakes are so cool.

The chūnin that have commandeered the picnic tables for their illegal gambling have finally noticed Tsunade and call her over, excitedly slapping the tabletop.

“Tsunade-sama!” one calls. “Quick, I’m on a losing streak! I need the Legendary Loser to change my luck!”

“Hah?! What’d you say, brat?” Tsunade rolls up her sleeves and shakes her fist at them, muscles bulging. “I’ll wipe the floor with you!”

“Tsunade-san?”

Tsunade freezes mid stomp and quickly rolls down her sleeves, blushing. "D-Dan, it's a nice evening, isn't it?"

It’s the washed-out-colors man, Katō Dan, and his niece…Shizuka? Shizu…na? Shizune! She was one of her and Kakashi’s classmates. Honōka remembers her as being quiet and polite.

“Hi, Dan-san!” Honōka calls, cheerfully.

She stares down his smoky bluish white nexus. Inside is a pale sky with no end in sight, no bottom and no top. No water, just some wispy white clouds.

Honōka reaches just her arm inside and scoops up a handful of clouds. She sees a brief memory of Dan watching Tsunade perform medical ninjutsu on a fish. Riveting.

She backs out of Dan’s liminal space. Not a Root agent. Whew!

“Ano…” he says. “Honōka-kun…that was kind of rude, you know?”

She nods. “I know.”

Tsunade picks her up, body and bones, and puts her in a headlock. She squawks indignantly as Tsunade gives her a massive noogie.

“I am so sorry, Dan! Honōka-chan just got back from border patrol and is still very paranoid about everything—right, _Honōka-chan?”_

Honōka squirms. “Tsunade-san, only Sensei is allowed to pick me up!”

She morphs into Madara and springs free, then trots over to Sensei and jumps into his arms to prove her point.

He sighs.

“Must you always transform into this mangy beast?”

“I think he’s handsome.” She retorts. “But we’re not really cat people, are we, Sensei?”

“No, we are not.” Sensei agrees, deadpan. He can guess what she’s about to do.

She morphs into a smaller version of Kohaku, with her blue irises and red pupils instead of his amber and red. She coils around Sensei’s neck.

“Look, Tsunade-san! I’m a scarf!”

Tsunade just slowly shakes her head and apologizes to Dan again.

“I’m so sorry about them, Dan. They have manners, I swear, they just don’t use them.”

Manners are overrated, Honōka thinks, and boring.

“Sensei, can you take me over to Kakashi? I want to freak him out.”

Sensei scoffs.

“Can you not make it there on your own?”

“The ground is cold and lateral undulation is hard.” And rectilinear locomotion (the caterpillar crawl) is slow and looks silly.

She suddenly sense a chakra signature zip into her expanded resting sensory-field. She thinks it might be Minato, at first, but then there’s a pop of smoke from a rather showy shunshin and a tall man with long spiky white hair puts his arm around Sensei’s shoulder.

He leans in and whispers, “Orochi, I swear, if you _touched_ my collection—I will kick your ass…!”

The voice triggers a memory of her three-year-old self (possibly two, she can’t remember with perfect certainty anymore—the time before Sensei keeps getting blurrier) attempting to scold a grown man for peeping at the women's bath.

She bites the hand hanging loose over Sensei’s shoulder, lightning fast. He’s lucky she hasn’t figured out how to imitate venom.

Yet.

He jumps away, shaking his hand out. “Is it poisonous?!” Jiraiya the Toad Sage, Bane of the Bathhouse, exclaims.

Sensei is one part amused, one part confused, and two parts concerned.

“Venomous,” Sensei corrects, absently. “Honōka?”

“I’m not venomous.”

Jiraiya shakes his hand out again, glaring at her, and Tsunade storms over to look at the bite mark. It’s just a few little punctures, arranged in a horseshoe pattern, skipping here and there where her needle sharp teeth dragged over skin.

Tsunade gives her a dirty look for making it impossible for her to have a normal conversation with Dan—who has smartly decided to lead Shizune over to Rin and Kurenai, away from any potentially dangerous Sannin shenanigans.

Jiraiya is distracted by Tsunade’s chest so Honōka takes the time to poke at his nexus, a nearly round ring of white hot flames. His liminal space is nearly the opposite of Sensei’s—a small pond surrounded by trees that go on and on.

His trigger is not blocked, like it would be by the Root seal, but she has a feeling she would be in serious trouble if she tried to get close to it. There’s a weird toad statue half submerged in the muddy water.

“He’s safe,” she whispers to Sensei, flicking her tongue irritably.

Sensei strokes her head with his thumb, gently. “Then why did you bite him? Did he surprise you?”

“…”

“Honōka?”

“…He’s the Bane of the Bathhouse.”

Sensei lets out a barking laugh that makes Tsunade look up and Jiraiya flinch. His guard is immediately up, but he’s also curious. Even he can tell something has changed about the way Sensei laughs.

“Honōka, transform back—you are being rude to my former teammate and fellow Sannin.”

“Wait, Honōka—Honōka!” He recognizes her name for some reason, and points at her. “That _snake_ is your student? The one Sensei keeps praising?!”

Honōka drops off Sensei and coils up tightly on the ground.

“Why the hell is she an actual snake? There’s no way that’s a henge—!”

She stands as she morphs back and dusts herself off, double checking to make sure she didn’t lose her new hair bead. It’s secure.

“—it felt too real…?”

Jiraiya squints at her. He’s focusing on her eyes. They’re not exactly forgettable.

“Tsunemori-ya… _Tsunemori_ Honōka! She’s the Mini Baba!”

Honōka sticks her tongue out at Jiraiya, making it extra long and snaky before quickly retracting it again.

“White-haired Jiji!”

Jiraiya looks like he wants to sink into the ground and never come out again.

“That’s it. Sarutobi-sensei is conspiring against me—that, or he’s lost his damn mind!”

Sensei laughs again, only this time it is a bit cold. Tired, she thinks, and lonely.

“Jiraiya, you have _no_ idea.”


	82. slash whatever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh. _Damn._ There goes his easy removal method.

Orochimaru’s right; Jiraiya has no idea what the hell is going on.

What Jiraiya does know is limited to these three major points.

1\. Orochimaru defeated Ōnoki of the Dust Release in battle and made the old bastard retreat. This means he’s probably even stronger than the last time they fought together. _Great._

2\. Orochimaru urgently requested his help on matters that he would not elaborate upon. He also threatened to burn his collection of very private books if he failed to respond in a timely manner. He did not specify what timely meant, so Jiraiya came as soon as he could.

3\. His student, Tsunemori Honōka—the kid Sarutobi-sensei occasionally writes to him about—is the Tsunemori-ya’s youngest child. 

…This is the same kid who tricked him into gluing his hands to a wall by drilling a conveniently placed hole in the wall next to the women’s bath. The glue worked a little too well (his hands stank like tallow and tar for weeks after) and the damn peep hole was covered with washi paper on the other side—translucent enough to let light through, but not enough to actually see anything.

Naturally, the first few women to come out of the bath screamed, and that brought the rest out… And suddenly he was being stoned half to death with bars of soap. 

When he finally broke free, the little brat had stolen his geta. He never did find them after.

And that was the moment Jiraiya knew that Tsunemori Hanako, the Onibaba of the Bathhouse, had passed on her mantle to a worthy heir.

He’s not sure why she’s a freaking shinobi now—he doesn’t know much about the Tsunemori family, other than that they’ve run the Tsunemori-ya for several generations. They’re civilians living the cushy lifestyle in the Steam District, so he doubts she became an orphan in the time since he’s been gone.

He’ll have to start going somewhere else for his research purposes—Jiraiya doesn’t want to find out what kind of nasty traps the brat's capable of setting on him now. Tenjin-ya, maybe. 

Minato and Kushina arrive and he breaks off the staring contest (glaring contest) he’s been having with the brat. Orochimaru _chuckles._

What the hell is up with that? He’s seen Orochimaru make more micro expressions in the last ten minutes than he’s seen in the last ten years. And none of them were even _bad._

“Jiraiya-sensei! You came!”

“Yo!” Kushina greets. “Looking good, ya ol’ perv!”

He glances at them and sends Kushina a pleasant smile—he’ll win her over eventually! Enough that she stops calling him a pervert in public, at least. Teenagers, honestly, no respect at all.

Then he does a double take.

“Minato…there’s a snake…a really _fat_ snake—around your—around your neck.”

Minato glances down at said snake with a sympathetic wince. The snake casts a genjutsu to make cartoon veins pop in the air around its broad head.

“How rude! I am not fat—I have a very attractive figure for a snake of my breed! Right, Minato-kun?”

Minato quickly nods and pats the snake’s head, neck, whatever, consolingly.

“Jiraiya-sensei is mistaken, Jorō-san.”

“Uh-huh,” he says. “Right. My mistake.”

 _Why_ in the eight hells is Minato carrying a snake, and being _chummy_ with it?!

“Thanks for bringing Minato and Kushina-san, Jorō-chan.” The Tsunemori-ya kid says. “You can go now, if you like.”

 _Wait—what?_ The kid summoned the snake? Sensei didn’t mention Orochimaru already gave her the snake summoning contract! She’s what—five years old? No. She’s older than she looks—it’s been nearly five years since he did more than check in on the village from afar.

The snake makes sparkles and a cheesy blush appears on either side of its wide mouth.

“It was no trouble at all! Honōka-chan, if you need someone to bite the rude toad-tasting man, let me or Kohaku-sama know, okay?”

She nods. “No worries, Jorō-chan. I can bite him myself.” 

And already did! The little monster…she better not have any weird germs!

The snake laughs, a real ojō-sama kind of laugh, and disappears in a pop of pink smoke. What the actual fuck, Jiraiya thinks.

Sakumo’s boy wanders over, parting ways with two other boys—a boy in green spandex and leg warmers that is rather obviously Might Duy’s son, and an Uchiha kid. Now, what’s that all about? Last he heard from Minato, Kakashi was still being anti-social.

Kakashi glances warily between him and the girl and stands just to her right side. He leans in, looking like he’s about to whisper in her ear, but sniffs instead.

“Honōka, you bit Jiraiya-sama…? _Why?”_

“He’s the enemy of women everywhere and my eternal nemesis.”

Kakashi’s eyebrows creep up and Jiraiya’s fairly certain he’s either about to call the girl crazy to her face (never a good idea!) or just snort and ignore her bold declaration. That would fit his reputation as a cool, no-nonsense genius type, and anti-social loner.

Instead he says, “Understandable.”

Tsunade’s turns bright red and her cheeks puff out—she’s trying so hard not to laugh that little wrinkles have appeared on her chin. It makes her face look kind of ugly, but Jiraiya thinks it’s a good look on her. He hasn’t seen her like this in a long time.

He leans down to whisper to her, like he’s about to share a big secret. “Tsunade-hime, I’m so confused right now—help.”

She bursts out laughing, and spits right in his face. He sighs and wipes his cheek with his sleeve. The things he puts up with to make a pretty lady laugh.

“Alright, alright. I’m here. What now? Is anyone going to tell me what I’ve so urgently been summoned for?”

The Mini Baba tugs on Minato’s hand.

“Sorry, Minato, I wanted to invite you over for the food and games, but this Jiji had to show up early and crash the party.”

“That’s okay, Honōka-chan. I’m used to it. Jiraiya-sensei rarely shows up when you expect him to.”

He sputters. “Excuse you! I show up _exactly_ when I mean to. If you’re going to blame anyone for my poor timing, blame Orochimaru—he’s the one who didn’t say when I was supposed to appear!”

Orochimaru sighs. “I said I would burn your collection if you did not show up within the week, did I not?”

“…oh, yeah. You did, didn’t you.” Maybe he is a little early.

Orochimaru’s student sticks her tongue out at him again. “Party crasher!”

Kakashi nods. “Uninvited guest.”

Minato dramatically covers his eyes with his forearm. “Why are you both like this?”

Tsunade is laughing so hard now that she’s nearly doubled over. He shoves her by the shoulder and she actually falls.

“I need a drink.” And answers. “Orochi, you coming?”

Orochimaru nods and saunters over to him, patting his little hellion on the head as he passes her. She grins at Jiraiya with her little razor blades, as if bragging that she gets head pats and he doesn’t. 

Joke's on her, Jiraiya doesn’t _want_ any head pats from Orochi.

“Ah,” Minato says. “I’ll come with you guys!”

He makes a shooing gesture at his student. “Enjoy the food and party games, kid. You deserve it.”

“But Jiraiya-sensei—”

“Minato, keep an eye on Honōka and Kakashi,” Orochimaru interrupts. “And do not modify shinobi grade flashbangs into fireworks again.”

Again? _Again?!_ And why the hell is Minato listening to Orochimaru over him? He didn't just imagine that, right? It wasn't a coincidence, _right?!_

Kushina grins and waves at them, snickering behind her other hand. “We’ll make them from scratch, won’t we, Minato?”

Orochimaru pretends he doesn't hear her.

“Come, Tsunade. Do get off the ground.”

She reluctantly picks herself up. “Eh, I have to come too? But Dan is here… Can’t you tell Jiraiya everything by yourself?”

Orochimaru catches her by the back of her blue haori jacket and drags her along after them.

“You are my reliable witness.”

Jiraiya snorts. Dan? As in Katō Dan? He’s like, six years younger than them, isn’t he? Is he Tsunade's flame? She hasn't made goo-goo eyes at _anyone_ since Nawaki passed away. He doesn't ask, in case he's wrong.

“Are we really calling Tsunade-hime reliable now?”

“What’d you say, you slimy toad-fucker?!”

They end up at the Shushu-ya and request the back booth, where he can get away with putting down a discreet anti-eavesdropping seal without rising the ire of the ex-Anbu bartender and store master. 

Tsunade orders food and sake—and asks for a large jug of water. Looks like this is going to be a long ass conversation.

“First off. What the heck is up with your student?” he asks. “That’s the little devil from the Tsunemori-ya.”

Tsunade glares and punches him in the shoulder, hard enough that he winces. He knew he should have sat on Orochimaru’s side of the table…or maybe not. Orochimaru's glaring at him too, with just a smidgen of KI.

“Do not call my student an oni, or an akuma, Jiraiya.” He warns.

“…Okay, sheesh, I won’t.”

Orochimaru’s cheek twitches and he nods curtly. He hasn’t been back an hour yet and he’s already on Orochi’s bad side. Some things never change.

“So, why’s the darling child of the Tsunemori-ya suddenly a shinobi?”

“Sarutobi-sensei did not tell you? I was under the impression he was keeping you up to date with my affairs.”

“Er, no, not exactly. I mean, he mentioned the kid, but I didn’t make the connection between her name—I only ever called her brat, pipsqueak, and Mini Baba. And, Sensei only ever calls her Honōka, slash your student, slash apprentice, slash whatever.”

“’Slash whatever’,” Orochimaru snorts.

Tsunade plays with her empty sake cup.

“She signed herself up for the Academy to get away from her abusive father.”

“…” Damn. That actually makes a lot of sense. He _thought_ her father was only being rough because his daughter was literally harassing a shinobi—not exactly something you want your young child thinking she can do on a regular basis. “Someone working on dealing with that?”

Tsunade nods. “I’m working on convincing the daimyō to let us try him under shinobi law.”

Hot damn. She must really like the kid. Tsunade freaking hates dealing with the daimyō. He wanted her to marry his son a few years back. That was a _thing._

Their server brings them yakitori and an assortment of other goodies on a large platter. It smells great, but whatever was cooking at the genin apartments smelled better. Oh well. 

He takes a skewer and gestures for someone else to take the floor.

“Our most pressing concern is this,” Orochimaru says, and sticks out his goddamn tongue.

 _“Really,_ Orochi? _Right_ in front of my yakitori?”

Orochimaru rolls his eyes at him but keeps his tongue out. Jiraiya takes out his notebook and a pencil, switching his skewer over to his left hand so he can sketch the seal out.

“I’d almost say that’s a Hyūga make—it’s Hyūga code for sure—but the Hyūga sealing method is more abstract than this.”

He sketches out the approximate dimensions and compares.

“You can put that thing away now, pervert.”

Orochimaru gives him the finger and he nearly chokes on his skewer. The fucker is _smirking_ at him!

“I stop talking to you for a couple years and when I come back you’re suddenly an even bigger jerk than you were before? How is that even possible?”

“Oh, shut up, Jiraiya. Orochimaru hasn’t been this fun in forever.” Tsunade says. “Deal with it.”

“You say ‘fun’ because you’re not the one he’s actively being a little shit to!”

They ignore him. Some friends they are—former teammates and all.

“Can you remove the seal, Jiraiya?” Orochimaru asks, affecting a more serious and somber mood.

He considers.

“It’d be faster to kill the bastard who put it on you, honestly.” Safer too. Dealing with three dimensional seals is never fun, or easy. At least this one has a comparatively easy removal method.

Orochimaru sighs and leans back in the booth, pushing his hair out of his face.

“Unfortunately, the bastard in question is Shimura Danzō.”

Oh. _Damn._ There goes his easy removal method.

He can think of several reasons for Shimura Danzō to put a complex silencing seal on Orochimaru, and none of them are good. And, if Orochimaru hadn’t already made a botched attempt at removing it himself, damaging it in the process, he doubts he’d even be having this conversation with him now.

“Tell me everything.”


	83. clumsy toad-oaf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You seemed awfully enamored with Yoshino’s personal mix last night,” Tsunade smirks. “Complained for a solid ten minutes that she wouldn’t tell you the formula.”
> 
> “It was a fascinating experience,” he says.

They drink all the cheap sake Tsunade-hime ordered, and eat all the food too. Between Orochimaru and Tsunade, they cite their concrete evidence first in chronological order, and then work their way back to the suspicious incidences in the past. The picture they paint is _bad._

Jiraiya listens, and listens. The story is long, and the grievances keep piling up. His faith in Sarutobi Hiruzen takes a hit—but doesn’t crumble. They’ve been blinded by the image they had of him—their invincible teacher, the Professor. They idolized him, put him on pedestal, when they should have been questioning his changing views. 

He thinks, Sarutobi-sensei is a victim too—and they’ve been failing to see it for years.

They take turns ordering and sharing their favorite foods, a nostalgic reminder of a long abandoned ritual from their years as teammates. 

It’s still karaage chicken and a pickled garlic cream sauce for him, plus plum wine to wash it down; chicken breast and more cheap sake for Tsunade; and then Orochimaru orders the good stuff—warm sake, top shelf, and yōkan. Of course, he’s not even pretending to share the red bean jelly, it stays on his side of the table only.

They sip the warm sake in silence. The moment goes undisturbed.

Gods, Jiraiya really hopes they’ve covered everything now. He’s not sober enough for anymore unwelcome subplots. He might start breaking things if he has to hear even one more. 

Hime’s also _maybe_ (she cheats, sometimes) drunk, and is supporting herself heavily across the table top, one cheek resting on her arm. She suddenly reaches across and Orochimaru reflexively moves his plate of yōkan away, but she’s aiming for the other hand instead, the one still loosely holding a sake cup. She grips his hand. 

Orochi frowns at the contact but doesn’t pull away. He would have sneered at such casual physical affection, in the past. 

“You didn’t say last time…that it was Kōmori who kidnapped Honōka.”

Orochimaru glares at the sake bottle, as though to blame it for his apparent slip. Which is stupid—Orochimaru’s in a drinking class all of his own…but Jiraiya tallies up their bills in his head—and calculates how much of it was sake drank exclusively by Orochi.

 _Damn,_ he thinks, Orochi’s _really_ drinking his money tonight.

Tsunade gently pulls his sake cup away from him and moves the tokkuri decanter away as well. He must be pretty gone if Hime’s cutting him off.

“Are you okay?” she asks. “I know, at one point, you were close to Kōmori.”

He shrugs— _shrugs!_ —and stabs a slice of yōkan, repeatedly. Jiraiya wonders if he’s intentionally mauling his food, or actually having trouble picking it up with the little bamboo fork.

Jiraiya removes the anti-eavesdropping seal before he forgets to and confuses the poor servers when they suddenly can’t hear anyone calling for them from this particular corner. It’s been done before—many, _many,_ times.

He leans out the booth and makes eye contact with their server, gesturing for the bills to be brought over.

Orochimaru frowns at him.

“I’m not done,” he says.

_“There’s more?!”_

Orochimaru continues poking at his yōkan.

“I’m not done eating,” he clarifies.

Jiraiya sighs his relief.

“Well, hurry up. I’ve been up since before sunrise and I’d like to be asleep before sunrise too.”

He leaves the mangled bits and forks up the last unmarred slice, then crams the whole thing into his mouth, swallowing without even chewing. Jiraiya wisely doesn’t comment on his table manners.

They settle their bills and head out into the cool night. Orochimaru sneezes and crosses his arms, hiding his hands in his sleeves. Hime huddles up to him, wrapping her haori jacket tightly around her torso.

“Brr! It’s freezing!” she complains. They can see her breath.

“Who’s place is closest again?” he asks. “The water and electricity is still shut off at my place.”

“You’re not mooching at my place!” Tsunade shouts. “You stole my underwear last time,”

“I was, like, ten! Get over it, Hime—I wouldn’t do that shit now.” She would murder him if he dared.

Orochimaru starts walking and Tsunade latches onto his arm. Surprisingly, he doesn’t shake her off.

And Tsunade’s not actually _that_ drunk—Jiraiya’s been watching her—so the clinging she’s doing is purely for Orochimaru’s benefit. He jogs to catch up with them and throws his weight into Orochi’s other side, nearly toppling the three of them. Whoops. That could have been bad. 

“Jiraiya, you clumsy toad-oaf…!”

He hooks his elbow around Orochimaru’s neck to pull him upright again and grins.

“Come on, Orochi—you've got better insults than that!”

Orochimaru lets out a string of expletives so foul that even the most seasoned sailor (or shinobi) would blush. Tsunade giggles. 

It’s always been easy for him to rile Orochi up or convince him to go along with them on their various shenanigans in the past, especially if they managed to get him a bit tipsy first. Jiraiya jerks his arm again and Orochi nearly twists an ankle—he’s definitely more than a little tipsy!

“Jiraiya…!” he hisses. “Keep it up, and I’ll be the one biting you this time!”

He laughs.

“Lighten up, Orochi! The three of us haven’t had a sleepover in ages!”

“We haven’t had a sleepover, ever.” Tsunade cuts in. “Sleeping in the same tent on missions doesn’t count.”

“Sure it does!”

Orochimaru nods. “I concur.”

 _“Concur,”_ Jiraiya snorts, “Just say you ‘agree’, like a normal person.”

Orochimaru attempts to toss his hair over one shoulder, and succeeds in giving Tsunade a mouthful of long black hair. 

“Do I look like a normal person to you, Jiraiya?” Orochi continues, ignoring the way Tsunade has to push his hair out of her face to see where she’s going.

“You look really drunk to me.”

He nods again. At least he realizes it.

“Did I tell you about Uchiha Yoshino’s painkiller concoction? It was _amazing.”_

Orochimaru wakes up an indeterminate amount of time later. The thick black curtains do a wonderful job of blocking out sunlight in his apartment bedroom. Despite that lack of sunlight, his eyes still burn from the ill-considered drinking last night. That and he may have been sleeping with his eyes open, again.

He shifts and is honestly stunned for a moment—he’s crammed between Tsunade and Jiraiya. Why on _earth_ are they so casually sleeping in his bed? Did they just invite themselves in? Did _he_ invite them in?

Orochimaru groans. He remembers—he invited them in.

Tsunade immediately wakes up.

“Are you going to be sick? Do I need to get you a bucket? A glass of water?” she asks.

He is parched. “Water, please.”

Tsunade rolls out of bed and heads to the kitchen, pulling the door shut gently behind her to block out the light.

He may be able to drink more than Tsunade, but hangovers don’t exist for her—not unless she means for them to. But who would willfully subject themselves to such torture if they had the necessary chakra control to process out alcohol in the bloodstream and liver with minute effort?

Jiraiya rolls over and throws a leg over his hip. His eye twitches.

“Jiraiya, I swear, if you do not remove yourself from me, I will cut it off.”

He rolls over again, mumbling sleepily, “…my bad.”

He scoffs. Jiraiya is lucky it was him that he attempted to ‘cuddle’. Had it been Tsunade, she just might have castrated him in his sleep, with him completely unaware.

Tsunade returns with his water, and this time she does leave the door open. It looks early, the light cast across the hall being the faintly blue color of a misty morning. It smells like stale booze and body odor in his room. He wrinkles his nose.

She sits on the edge of the bed and helps him sit up.

“You okay? You don’t normally drink like that, Orochimaru.”

He sips the water slowly, making certain he won’t actually be sick before taking a deeper gulp.

“I forgot myself, last night.”

Tsunade hums.

“Well, don’t make a habit of it, okay?”

He rolls his eyes, but nods.

“Do you have an addiction to narcotics?”

He glares. “No.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes, Tsunade, I am quite certain.”

“You seemed awfully enamored with Yoshino’s personal mix last night,” Tsunade smirks. “Complained for a solid ten minutes that she wouldn’t tell you the formula.”

“It was a fascinating experience,” he says.

Tsunade sighs. “One that I hope you won’t experiment with, yeah?”

“There are much more important things happening now to be experimenting with substance abuse, Tsunade.”

“Good.” She says. “Do you want another glass of water before I go? Should I drag Jiraiya to the couch?”

“You’re leaving?” slips out before he can censor himself.

Tsunade chuckles. “I got shit to sort out at the hospital, and a meeting with a representative of the daimyō in the afternoon. For Honōka’s case.”

He rips a pillow away from Jiraiya and lies back down. He hopes that goes well.

“So, water? Jiraiya?”

“I am fine.”

“Are you sure? Jiraiya’s fiendishly clingy in his sleep.”

He snorts. “Now that your breasts are not taking up half the bed there is plenty of room for me to retreat to.”

Tsunade swats him, gently. “Well excuse me for being well endowed. Or maybe you would like to share some of my assets?”

He scoffs. “No, thank you. Jiraiya is handsy enough without any added distractions.”

Tsunade laughs and Jiraiya pulls the blankets over his head with a murmured complaint.

“I will be fine, Tsunade. Just let us sleep off our hangovers. Moving him to the couch now will just stink up another room.”

Tsunade near cackles then and Jiraiya grumbles in his sleep at them.

“If you say so. Just don’t stab him if he grabs your ass or something, okay?”

“Go, you are giving me a migraine,” and he will make no such promises.

He wakes again, alone, and hears Jiraiya pawing through his fridge for a late breakfast.

“Orochi…where are the eggs?”

He blinks.

_Honōka!_


	84. Kyūbi no Yōko

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She frowns at them. “I didn’t help you because I expected something in return—I did it because it was the right thing to do, and because I might be the only person who could do it.”

Honōka and Kakashi are hanging out at Minato’s place when she feels the mental equivalent of an exasperated scowl coming from Sensei. She grins.

Kakashi gives her a look, one eyebrow creeping up just so.

“Orochimaru-sensei finally noticed?”

She nods, excited.

“Noticed what, exactly?” Kushina asks. She and Minato are working on Sensei’s seal again.

“I stole the eggs from Sensei’s fridge last night while he was out drinking with Tsunade-san and the White-haired Jiji.”

Kushina laughs and Minato makes a disapproving noise, somewhere between a sigh and a groan.

“Don’t you think that’s a little reckless, Honōka-chan? What if the Root agents decided make a move against you while you were away from everyone else?”

“It’s fine. Kakashi was with me.”

“That doesn’t make it fine at all!” Minato complains. “Just wait until Sensei finds out you two were running around unsupervised, all hours of the night.”

She shrugs. Sensei’s currently at her apartment, probably looking for her stash of stolen eggs. She smiles. She hid them in Minato’s fridge when they decided to visit.

Sensei sends out a focused sense of ‘where are you?’ and she frowns. The probing sense continues for a moment before she realizes what it is—a sensing technique. She pouts.

“Sensei learned a sensing technique. No fair.”

“Maa, there’s only so many times you can spy on someone before they learn to do the same, Honōka.”

“Still, no fair. Sensing is my thing.” 

She’ll hide from him better next time—though maybe not until Danzō is dealt with. She wouldn’t want to worry Sensei by hiding her presence—he might think something bad happened to her.

“The White-haired Jiji is coming too. Let’s prank him, Kakashi.”

Kakashi gives her another look and continues sharpening his kunai in the middle of Minato’s living room floor.

“Fine, I’ll prank him myself.”

“Can we not prank Jiraiya-sensei in my apartment, please?”

“I’ll give you back your Hiraishin kunai.”

Minato looks conflicted.

“…All of them?”

“Yep!” such is the price of a good prank!

“…Fine, you can prank Jiraiya-sensei.” Minato quietly apologizes to his other sensei under his breath and Honōka goes to the fridge.

She re-hides the eggs in the freezer, Sensei might not look there—not at first, at least. Then she goes to the chair next to Minato and pulls the screws out, save for two.

“Honōka-chan, my chair!”

“I’ll buy you a new one, promise!”

Kushina giggles and quickly schools her expression when Minato shoots her a wounded look.

“I think that’s bullying, Honōka-chan, not pranking.”

Kakashi shrugs from the floor. He’s sharpening his lucky kunai now, which he picked up after their battle with Daruma. He claimed finders keepers on it, so it’s his again. For now.

“Maa, there’s a fine line between those two things, Minato, one Honōka clearly doesn’t mind crossing.”

She sticks her tongue out at them both, and innocently sits on the couch behind Kakashi. She giddily awaits the arrival of her Sensei and the bathhouse menace. She doesn’t have to wait long.

“Good morning—or should I say afternoon?” Kushina greets. “I heard yous were out drinking late last night, dattebane.”

“Afternoon, Kushina,” Sensei greets, and heads straight for the fridge. Frustration colors his mood, and he does not open the freezer. Success!

She giggles and Sensei turns his attention on her, ensuring that he does not sit in the sabotaged chair. He’s paler than usual and grumpy as hell—hungover, still.

Jiraiya heads for the chair next to Minato and sits down. It doesn’t collapse, yet.

Sensei comes over to her and (predictably) squeezes her cheeks between his thumb and index finger.

“Honōka-kun…” Sensei smiles. “Stealing from your Sensei is a very naughty thing to do…!”

“Itai—Sensei!” she squeaks—it doesn’t _actually_ hurt and Sensei knows this. He narrows his eyes at her, suspicious.

“Hey now, Orochi, no need to be rough—”

Jiraiya shifts forward, concerned, and the chair collapses, putting him on his ass.

She bursts out laughing and Sensei looks baffled for a moment, slowly letting go of her face.

Kakashi pulls up his collar to hide the outline of his grin and stoically says, “I can’t believe that actually worked.”

Kushina falls out of her own chair, she’s laughing that hard.

“Ya shoulda seen the look on ya face, Jiraiya!”

“I am so sorry, Jiraiya-sensei—I told her not to, but Honōka-chan bribed me!”

Honōka and Kushina laugh louder—he’s admitting to being bribed? That’s too funny!

Jiraiya sputters and gracelessly picks himself off the floor, pulling a splintered chair leg out of his wild mane and ponytail.

Sensei sighs and pats her on the head, just once.

“Watch out for this one, Jiraiya. Honōka rarely stops at one prank.”

“First she bites me, then she sabotages me…” Jiraiya grumbles, “What’s next—poison?”

“She is not quite that cutthroat, Jiraiya.” Sensei drawls, unimpressed with him.

Honōka considers. “Does laxative count as attempted poisoning? I bet I could do it.”

“Honōka-chan!” Minato squawks, voice cracking.

Kushina laughs even even harder and kicks her legs in the air.

“I bet—”

“No, no,” Sensei cuts him off. “Do not bet against Honōka, Jiraiya. Unlike Tsunade, she always wins.”

Jiraiya’s mouth clicks shut. He glances at Minato for confirmation.

“She cheats,” he says.

“And sometimes she’s just stupidly lucky.” Kakashi throws in.

Jiraiya dusts himself off and toes the wreckage of his previous chair out of the way. He picks up the remaining chair and checks it over before setting it down next to Minato and very gingerly sits on it.

She shows him her handful of screws and he quickly gets up, swearing. She giggles.

“They’re from the first chair, Jiraiya-sama.” Kakashi says without looking up. “And she put the eggs in the freezer, Orochimaru-sensei.”

Sensei pats Kakashi on the head and there’s an audible crackle of static from Sensei’s dry and windy chakra hitting Kakashi’s staticky chakra. Sensei goes back to the freezer to reclaim his two dozen eggs. She jabs her toes into Kakashi’s side when no one is looking.

“Hey!” Kakashi yelps. “I’m holding sharp and pointy objects here, dumbass!”

“I didn’t do anything,” she replies, her innocent smile all teeth.

“Behave, you two,” Minato warns, absently. He’s neck deep in seal work again. “Or I’ll have Sensei kick you both out.”

Jiraiya opens his mouth to say something, thinks it over, and glares at Sensei who is placing his eggs back down on the counter.

“You stole my student’s student, and _my_ student? How could you, Orochi?!”

Sensei rolls his eyes. He can tell Jiraiya isn’t actually _that_ torn up about it. He’s…well, he _is_ upset, it’s just more the kind of upset you get when someone borrows something important without asking.

“Please, it is not stealing if they come to me for guidance in the first place.”

“You poached my student with promises of new and exciting jutsu, didn’t you?”

Sensei scoffs, but doesn’t deny it.

Jiraiya gives Minato a noogie—which can’t be pleasant—his hands are huge, like everything else about the mountain man. Huge height, huge hair, huge feet (she stole his wooden geta once, and for a very young child to carry, they were _heavy),_ and huge attitude too.

“You nerdy little traitor!”

Minato whines as Jiraiya buffs the tops of his head with his knuckles.

“Can’t—can’t I be both you and Orochimaru-san’s student?”

Jiraiya noogies harder and Minato begs for Kushina to save him, but she just angrily scribbles out something on her notepad, completely ignoring his plight.

“Yeah!” Honōka agrees, heartily. “Jiji, teach me how you turned invisible that one time.”

Sensei frowns at her and then slys his eyes over to Jiraiya, watching his reaction.

Jiraiya considers her, and breaks out a wide (and very toad-like) grin.

“Orochi, I’m stealing your student.”

“Oh, for goodness sake, Jiraiya—it is not stealing, and you hardly qualify as a teacher if you only teach her one jutsu!”

Eventually, Kushina puts an end to their bickering by yelling at them to shut up and help figure out the seal. Everyone gets back on task after that.

She and Kakashi quietly meditate together, since neither of them can contribute to the seal work, and she tries to figure out how to get Kakashi’s nexus to produce a bigger electromagnetic field. They’ve tried several things so far, but nothing works. 

She sighs and gets up, wandering over to the table.

Because she (and Jiraiya) broke Minato’s fourth chair, Sensei is sitting on the edge of the table instead, reading over Minato’s notes. She’s just tall enough to put her chin on Sensei’s knee—if she stretches a little.

“Yes, Honōka?”

“Still no luck, Sensei?”

He pets her hair.

“It’s a tricky seal, kid.” Jiraiya says. “Old, or maybe unique. I’m not sure where Danzō ripped it off from—I’ve never heard any rumors about him being particularly skilled in fūinjutsu…but there’s a lot I didn’t know about that bastard.”

She hums, unhappily. “Aren’t you supposed to be a sealing expert?”

“Jiraiya's the best in the Land of Fire, maybe even in all the elemental nations, ‘ttebane.” Kushina provides. There’s an edge of deep sorrow to her tone, fueled by the loss of her kinsmen. Honōka almost wishes she hadn’t asked.

“Hmm…? Are you really?”

“I really, _really,_ am.” Jiraiya confirms. “If you want someone better you’ll have to ask the gods themselves.”

She scowls at him for teasing her.

“Kami don’t just answer mortal questions—” Honōka pauses. “Actually, there is one that might.”

 _“No.”_ Sensei says, firmly.

“Kushina-san, do you mind if I talk to Tenko-sama for a second?”

“Eh?! Honōka-chan—”

She dives.

She watches where she lands this time—making sure she doesn’t land inside the seal again. That would be rude, she thinks. Honōka touches down just outside the cage instead.

Behind her is a road with fields of golden grass on either side and a lone river leading to a large bay. The wind is warm and pleasant and faintly salty.

In front of her is the opening to a massive cave, with rusty but sturdy iron bars across the entrance. There’s a yellowed piece of paper attached to a large lock that literally just says ‘seal’. Weird. She’ll have to go in if she wants to speak to Tenko-sama, but she doesn’t have to worry about disturbing the paper. There’s a person sized gap for her to slip through.

She steps into the cave and walks, and walks, and walks… The path is eventually submerged in murky water and she walks across the top, one hand lightly trailing the wall so that she doesn’t lose her way.

Maybe Tenko-sama doesn’t want to be found today, she thinks.

There’s a laugh, echoing all around her.

**_“You’ve returned, little goblin.”_ **

A wave of emotions so dense and complex hits her. Anger, hurt, pain, loneliness, longing, rage, and despair, all wrapped up into a furious blanket of something just _not nice._ She’s prepared for it this time.

Maybe.

She swallows. 

The darkness ripples and the fox appears, red eyes and rusty orange fur—black lips and big white teeth. _Sharp_ white teeth. Nine tails sway, almost lazily.

Honōka bows, the way her grandfather taught her to greet gods, ritually. She trembles but folds her hand in front of her carefully and bows deeply.

“Ano…” and then she has no idea how to ask a god a question, when said god can literally squash her for her impudence. “Tenko-sama…?”

 ** _“Tenko-sama?”_** the fox laughs, a booming sound that hurts her ears. _**“Are you the one who started calling me by that ridiculous name?”**_

“Um, yes?”

They laugh again. This laugh takes the edge off the _not nice_ feeling so she pushes on.

“Tenko-sama, can I ask you a question?”

They scoff at her. **_“You just did.”_**

“Another one, then.” She says. “If I were wanting to get rid of a really complicated seal, how could I do it without knowing the exact method for removing it?”

**_“Promise to remove my seal for me and you will have your method, little goblin.”_ **

“…”

_**“Well?”** _

“I can’t do that, Tenko-sama. I’m sorry.”

_**“Begone then.”** _

Disappointment rings in the air and she bites her cheek.

“I can’t remove the seal, because that would hurt Kushina-san.”

The fox growls. **_“Do you think I care what happens to that little Uzumaki bitch?”_**

“No,” she answers. “But I do.”

The fox stands up and turns, wading through the ankle deep water—and she realizes why they haven't tried to eat her. They're chained, and at the very end of their slack.

“And I care about what happens to you, too, Tenko-sama.”

Their fur is rubbed off around the too tight collar, and they look half starved. The fur on their belly is patchy, and the exposed skin slimy and sick looking from being constantly submerged in the filthy water in the cave.

The fox snarls at her.

**_“Do not patronize me, human! Your kind couldn’t care any less what happens to me!”_ **

She gulps, again, but she can’t give up.

“I’m going to clean this place up for you, Tenko-sama.”

**_“I'd love to see you try!”_ **

Honōka takes a deep breath and concentrates on finding a solution.

For one, Tenko-sama’s cage is not airtight—Kushina’s feelings are leaking in from somewhere and becoming stagnant energy, poisoning the water and emotions already trapped in the cave.

It won’t run out on its own because the weight of the seal and Tenko-sama have created a depression in Kushina’s entire liminal space. The river flowing outside and the stream flowing in here also flow in opposite directions, and she thinks that might be part of the problem.

If she raises the water level in here somehow, it might start flowing out instead. Even a little would freshen up the stagnating energy. Maybe if she rose up a little island, it would displace enough water to have it begin flowing out, rather than in.

She can try—even if she fails to solve the issue with the stagnating energy and water, it might still give Tenko-sama a temporary reprieve.

She _looks_ and she _pulls._ The cave trembles.

 ** _“What are you doing?!”_** Tenko-sama roars, jumping around to avoid falling stalactites.

She focuses on remembering the feeling of literally tearing out a piece of Sensei’s liminal space but stops short of actually separating anything. She doesn’t pull and _rip_ this time, just pulls and _molds._

Ground slowly emerges from the water and she keeps tugging and shaping until there’s an entire island, just large enough for Tenko-sama. It’s an island by her standard, but maybe only a perch for Tenko-sama. Still, better than sitting in acid-like water all day and night.

The rumbling stops and Honōka sits down on the unsteady surface of water and pants. She drifts, just slightly, towards the cave entrance.

It worked, if only just barely! She cheers inside.

That was really difficult.

Tenko-sama tests the island with a limb that is both fox paw and human hand. They look surprised when the island bears their weight.

They step out of the water that refuses to be solid under their feet and shake off the clinging droplets of waste water once they are fully on the island.

**_“…”_ **

“…”

_**“What is your name, little goblin?”** _

“Tsunemori Honōka, desu.” She catches her breath. “What’s yours?”

Tenko-sama snorts. **_“Humans call me the Kyūbi no Yōko.”_**

“But that’s not your name, right? I mean, everyone calls you Kyūbi because you have nine tails, right?”

Tenko-sama rumbles at her. Their true name must be too important to give to her.

“Can I keep calling you Tenko-sama?”

_**“Call me what you will, child.”** _

“Okay. Let’s stick with Tenko-sama.”

 ** _“…”_** Tenko-sama laughs, very quietly.

She gets up and heads for the exit. She could just zip herself out, but that might be seen as rude, she reasons.

 ** _“You.”_** They say, almost haltingly. **_“You haven’t demanded your reward.”_**

She frowns at them. “I didn’t help you because I expected something in return—I did it because it was the right thing to do, and because I might be the only person who could do it.”

 ** _“…”_** Tenko-sama regards her very seriously. _**“The seal on my prison can be removed very simply by someone with your capabilities. If the complicated seal you wish to remove is on another person, look inside them and find the seal. When you do, tear it off in one piece and destroy the medium it was written upon.”**_

Honōka grins up at the fox.

“Thanks! You’re the greatest, Tenko-sama!”

They harrumph and lie down on their belly, supporting their great head with one hand and touches the claw of the other hand to the water. A small stream of red chakra flows towards her, curling around her body before disappearing into her own nexus.

**_“So that you don’t die before we meet again, little goblin.”_ **


	85. ‘you’re welcome’

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The frantic and panicked emotions quickly fizzle out. She feels a rare spike of irritation from Minato.
> 
> “Honōka-chan, I swear! Do you EVER think before you act?!”

Honōka returns to the conscious world, ears ringing and vision dipping and diving. Chakra exhaustion? she wonders. It feels like the opposite—like _too_ much foreign chakra is flowing just below the surface. It’ll eventually run out if she keeps letting it circulate through her poorly insulated Chakra Pathway System.

She grabs onto the dense red chakra and pushes it back inside her nexus, separating it out from her own chakra turning sluggishly in her lower dantian. She practically feels her coils settle, like a deep sigh after holding her breath for a little too long.

She blinks and tries to sit up. Several hands move to push her back down, and a wet cloth gets slapped to her forehead. She protests with an energetic hiss, the way Kohaku taught her to.

“Do I still need to get Tsunade-sama?” Kakashi asks. He’s ready to run for Tsunade if he has to, but he’s still anxious about being more than a few dozen meters away from Honōka. And child snatchers, she thinks. Kakashi really doesn't like the child snatchers and prefers having Honōka around as a handy-dandy detector.

She likes having Kakashi around too. She's pretty sure they could handle a few child snatchers on their own, if push comes to shove goes to stab.

The frantic and panicked emotions quickly fizzle out. She feels a rare spike of irritation from Minato.

“Honōka-chan, I swear! Do you EVER think before you act?!”

She frowns at Minato and sits up. Of course she does—she thinks about everything she does. Sometimes she just acts on things as soon as she thinks them, usually so that no one has time to stop her from doing those things.

“Yes.” She answers. “Also, Tenko-sama told me how to remove seals on people. I think I almost had it last time actually—I just didn’t know what I should have been aiming for, properly.”

Minato ignores her and goes to sit next to Kushina on the couch, hugging her around the shoulders, comfortingly. She’s sitting with her knees folded up to her chest and her long hair forming a curtain between her and everyone else. She’s _really_ upset.

Honōka feels a guilty twinge. She probably should have waited for permission but, like they say: ask forgiveness, not permission.

“Tenko-sama?” Jiraiya says. “Alright, hold on a second. We’re talking about the Kyūbi here, right?”

“Tenko-sama,” she says, “is a nine-tailed fox, yeah.”

Jiraiya plops down next to her, legs crossed. He usually has a kind of harmlessly dumb expression on his face, but he’s completely serious right now.

“This is because of that dōjutsu Orochi was telling me about, Shinryūgan? The ability to enter the subconscious spaces of others with minimal resistance—and the ability to reshape those spaces?”

Honōka nods.

“The Kyūbi—”

“Tenko-sama.”

“The _Kyūbi_ told you how to remove seals. Did it ask for anything in return?”

She shrugs. “They wanted me to let them out—” alarm, from everyone, “but I told them I couldn’t do that.”

Jiraiya’s eyes narrow. “So you forced the Kyūbi to tell you the method—do you think what they told you was the truth?”

She glares at him. “I didn’t _force_ Tenko-sama to tell me anything. I helped them out with something else and they decided to help me back.”

Sensei looks mildly disconcerted. Possibly because she’s trading favors with a literal god. He gets weirdly excited about other gods she may or may not have had contact with—but not with the physically present ones, like Tenko-sama. Minato tried explaining the difference to her once, but gave up. 

“And what did you help them with…?” Sensei asks.

“Tenko-sama's cage is in a deep cavern filled with stagnating chi and emotions, physical and spiritual chakra from Kushina-san that became trapped inside the seal. It makes the water toxic. They can’t walk on top of it so it eats through their fur and skin like an acid. It hurts them.”

“My… _my_ chakra hurts them?” Kushina huffs, finally lifting her tear stained face. “I could say the same thing about theirs!”

She’s angry—and not all of it is directed at Tenko-sama. Honōka shrugs her shoulders. She doesn’t regret what she did.

“I changed the landscaping inside the seal, so hopefully you both stop hurting each other. Tenko-sama now has somewhere to get out of the water, and the stagnating chi that was weighing the seal down is flowing in the same direction as the rest of your chakra. It should begin cycling out on its own.”

Kushina gapes at her, hands going to her belly, her seal. Her brow wrinkles.

“…it does feel kinda…lighter, ‘ttebane.”

And she’s still spitting mad so Honōka does not say ‘you’re welcome’. Not yet, at least.

Jiraiya pinches the bridge of his nose and squeezes his eyes shut. Sensei breathes out a silent sigh.

“Kid, you tampered with a sealed space _and_ spoke civilly with a chakra monster.”

“Tenko-sama yelled at me a bit, too.”

“Just a bit?” Minato snarks. She thinks he wants to yell at her too. “I’m surprised the Kyūbi didn’t bite your head off.”

Honōka doesn’t pout or complain, or correct him when he calls Tenko-sama Kyūbi this time. She thinks he’ll just get angrier if she does—and he’s technically not wrong. Tenko-sama probably would have snapped at her had she gone any closer.

But—they did appear just before she encroached on their space, as if warning her to go no farther.

Sensei kneels on her other side and forms the seals for a diagnostic ninjutsu. He runs the glowing green jutsu over her head and back.

There’s a pang of worry and he makes discreet eye contact with her. Sensei must have noticed her coils are a little on the overburdened side, but doesn’t comment aloud. They'll be fine, she thinks. She's had worse.

And, she thinks, no one noticed Tenko-sama’s small parting gifting.

Other than that, she must be fine. Sensei lets the jutsu deactivate and everyone breathes a small sigh of relief, regardless of their currently less than happy feelings.

“Never a dull moment with you around, Honōka-chan.” Kushina drawls. “Keepin’ Kakashi on his toes, yeah?”

Kakashi snorts. “You have no idea, Kushina-nē.”

Honōka holds back a yawn. Thanks to Tenko-sama’s chakra she avoided having chakra exhaustion (again) but she still ran her own chakra into the dirt. What she did in Kushina’s liminal space was unlike anything she’s ever done before. 

Her chakra is already recovering, but she feels like taking a nap to restore it more fully wouldn’t be a bad idea.

She yawns again, wider this time, and Jiraiya leans away—eying her mouthful of sharp teeth with a little trepidation.

“Sensei, sensei.” She says, pulling on his sleeve as she rubs her tired eyes. “Can I remove the seal after I take a nap?”

Sensei rubs her back, bony knuckles and hard callouses digging into her muscles. It feels slightly nicer than when they used to hit every bone in her back. 

Minato ignores her and talks to Sensei instead.

“Is that wise, Orochimaru-sensei? What if the Kyūbi tricked her and she does more harm than good?”

She considers. She doesn’t think Tenko-sama would lie, but she understands if Minato and the others still feel a little (a lot) skeptical.

She also ignores Minato and addresses Sensei. “I could always test it on something else, or someone else, first.”

Sensei’s lip twitches, trying hard to not openly show his amusement at their childish behavior.

“And who do you suggest you test it on, Honōka?”

They could go after a Root agent, so that she knows it works on the Root seal in particular, but Danzō would definitely notice that and see it as a reason to retaliate sooner.

“What about the password I gave to Fugaku-oji-san and Inoichi-san? I could try removing that with Tenko-sama’s method.”

Minato’s interest is piqued. The seal she drew on their palms have eluded every attempt at removal Minato could throw at them. He clears his throat and looks directly at Sensei again.

“I guess that would be an _okay_ trial run. It’s a fairly harmless seal, so even if Honōka-chan fails, it’s unlikely to do much harm.”

“Hey now,” Jiraiya says. “You’re talking about testing an unknown seal removal method on your friends, Minato.”

Minato blushes, having just realized he glossed over his usual moral objections to testing new jutsu on people. Sensei’s been rubbing off on him. Excellent!

“Let’s practice on Fugaku-oji-san first.” She chirps. “He’s fun and never complains about anything we do. Right, Sensei?”

Sensei chuckles and Jiraiya scowls at him.

“You’re a terrible influence, you know that, right?”


	86. demo-crazy.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Honōka huffs, loudly, and dramatically faints back onto the couch.
> 
> “Why are adults so _dumb,_ Kakashi?”
> 
> Kakashi grunts his agreement. He’s playing with his lucky kunai now, having sharpened every weapon in the apartment—and the kitchen knives too.

The kid takes a nap, like she said she would. She curls up on one side of Minato’s couch and is out like a light. It’d be kind of cute, if she hadn’t just stirred up hell.

Kushina stews over her notes as he continues fiddling with the seal and what they know of its jutsu-shiki. Minato has given up and is _sulking._

Jiraiya is so confused. He leaves for a few years and suddenly everyone’s _different._ He knows people change, buts gods—Minato was always the most mature and cool-headed of his genin team, (is it really so surprising that he’s the only one that survived past chūnin rank?) and the least prone to childish pettiness.

He sighs.

“Oi, Minato. Get over here and help us with the seal.”

Minato stubbornly sharpens his Hiraishin kunai, just a touch too forcefully, and Kakashi knocks elbows with him. The younger boy isn’t quite glaring, but it’s definitely borderline.

“It’s not like it matters—when Honōka-chan wakes up she’s going to find a way to disarm the seal herself.”

That’s…well, it’s nice that he has faith in the little baby monster, but…

Orochimaru scoffs as he maneuvers around Minato’s kitchen. He finds the rice cooker amongst the clutter in record time.

“Minato, are you jealous? How unusual,” he teases. “Normally you are overjoyed when Honōka or Kakashi teach themselves a new technique.”

Minato blushes.

“I’m not jealous, okay? I’m… I am _concerned._ Every time Honōka-chan learns something new, she abuses it. Who’s to say she won’t walk up to the next Root agent that upsets her and just rip their seal off and prize information out of them?”

The moment of silence in which Orochimaru and Kakashi seriously consider his words is what's actually concerning, Jiraiya thinks.

“She’s what, six? She won’t actually do that, right?”

“Seven,” Kakashi corrects him. “Maa, you never know with Honōka. She was going to attack the Root agent watching us the other day just for taunting her back.”

Minato stops honing his kunai and pushes his hair back, heaving out a great big sigh. “I _knew_ she started it.”

Orochimaru tuts from the kitchen, where he is casually cooking. If Jiraiya didn’t know better, he’d say he’s done this before—and then he realizes he doesn’t know better and refrains from pouting. The bastard never cooked for him or Tsunade when they were teammates.

He clears his throat.

“Seriously though—you’re giving up on solving the seal because you honestly think the little—” not a demon, he reminds himself, “…snake…has it figured out?”

Minato reluctantly nods.

“I know seals—and I’m at least ninety percent sure whatever she and the fox cooked up is going to backfire. That seal Danzō put on Orochi and the rest of his so called Root agents is not some second rate thing you can just strong arm off.”

Jiraiya sends a not insignificant look Orochimaru’s way. He’s trying to convey just how foolish he thinks Orochimaru is for letting his student play with a highly dangerous seal.

“…She canceled the assassination seal, didn’t she?” Kakashi says.

What now? Someone’s been glossing over details. He glares at Orochimaru, who conveniently finds a reason to turn away from him.

“I suspect that was mostly Tomoe’s work.” Orochimaru replies. 

“Tomoe?” Kushina asks. “Ain’t Honōka-chan Tomoe?”

“Ah,” Minato says. “Well, yes and no?”

Kushina frowns at him and crosses her arms.

“Honōka-chan is Honōka-chan, and she _used_ to be Tomoe—but Tomoe also kind of exists in her own right with her own power and now she’s sealed.” He scratches his head, searching for the words to explain the situation. “I wasn’t around when Tomoe’s personality surfaced so I don’t really get it the way Orochimaru-sensei does—but Tomoe’s kind of…dangerous?”

He raises an eyebrow at Minato’s awkwardness. It seems Orochimaru is not the only person glossing over details with the people he’s supposed to be honest with.

“He means she’s like a Bijū without a tail.” Jiraiya translates.

Kushina’s eyes bug out and she gapes at the little girl napping on the couch.

“Whaddya mean, a tailless Bijū, ‘ttebane?!”

“Er, well—”

Orochimaru cuts in, turning away from the simmering rice and miso soup.

“Under extreme duress, a facet of Honōka’s previous life split from her psyche and possessed her during the conflict with Iwa. This occurred after being fatally wounded by the Tsuchikage’s Dust Release and resulted in a rather one-sided battle between her and the Tsuchikage. Ultimately her…Tomoe’s rather bizarre behavior and impervious defenses led to Ōnoki and his Iwa-nin retreating.”

Kushina continues to stare at the kid, then wheels on Minato. “I thought ya said she was normal in her past life!” she hisses, quietly.

“She had to be! Ninjutsu didn’t even exist over there!” Minato whisper-yells back.

“Gods apparently existed though, so there _is_ that.” Jiraiya snorts.

“Do you not believe in gods, Jiraiya?” Orochimaru asks, faux innocently. Orochi knows his opinion on gods and the like—and Jiraiya used to think Orochimaru thought similarly—but, maybe not.

“Ōgama Sennin’s been around for a long, _long,_ time. The only goddess he’s ever talked about is that Rabbit Goddess who turned out to be a real demon.”

The kid wakes up when she hears the forbidden word in her sleep and squints her good eye at him. Not that it matters, considering she can apparently use her Shinryūgan in either eye, open or closed, blind or otherwise.

She’s not agitated by the looks of it, just muddled from a nap that was either too long, or too short.

“Kaguya-hime?” she asks, yawning. “Why are we talking about the moon princess?”

“Jiraiya thinks you’re an Uchūjin like the princess in your story.” Kakashi provides.

She yawns big, lips curling back over her sharp teeth. They curve just slightly inward and he thinks they can’t possibly be that way naturally.

“Jiji doesn’t even know what an alien is, Bakashi.”

He guesses they’re not talking about a foreign species or an illegal immigrant then. More importantly—Jiraiya wonders if he should be concerned that Kakashi is apparently trying to get him in shit with the little snake. Cute, but he can handle a _seven-_ year-old brat, thank you very much. 

She rolls off the couch and trots over to Orochimaru, one hand reaching over the edge of the counter for the carton of eggs.

Orochimaru pushes the open carton in farther and she pouts at him, as if she expects him to give in. He doesn’t bend for the begging puppy dog eyes either and her arm suddenly elongates, grabbing an egg out of the carton before shrinking back fast.

“Honōka,” Orochimaru scolds. “Manners.”

The little…dear…cracks the egg on her hitai-ate and tilts her head back, swallowing the raw egg in one gulp.

He winces. She’s Orochi’s alright.

Maybe he should call both of them Uchūjin. They certainly act like a foreign invading species. Whatever they have going on, he hopes it’s not contagious.

Sensei feeds them and Honōka expands her sensory-field to Uchiha-ku. She’s not exactly sure where Fugaku lives, but she assumes he’s at home. He’s on the same stretch of road that Obito and Fūbuki-obā-san live on—and he hasn’t left that general vicinity since arriving back from border patrol. He’s somewhat tense at the moment.

“Sensei, Fugaku-oji-san is at home, I think. What’s the polite way to invite him over?”

Sensei considers and Minato makes a face at her.

“How is it you care about offending Fugaku with your manners but you just walk all over us?”

She shrugs. “Fugaku-oji-san’s father is nearby.”

Minato opens his mouth and then shuts it again. He feels a touch of something that verges on pity but quickly shakes it off. He knows she hates it.

“We still don’t know how the Uchiha are taking the news?” Jiraiya asks.

Sensei shakes his head. “We do not.”

Honōka gestures, _so-so,_ and Jiraiya raises an eyebrow at her.

“Kid, what the heck do you mean by that?”

“Shortly after arriving back in the village, Uchiha-ku developed an unsettled atmosphere. Fugaku-oji-san most likely informed his clan about the situation at that time. Since then, the KKB has slightly changed their patrol routes. They’re now patrolling the Academy more frequently and operating in larger teams than is usual. Several of their chūnin and jōnin level members also haven’t left Uchiha-ku at all.

“They’re afraid.” Jiraiya says, surprised. “Just how dangerous is that damned eye?”

Sensei ignores him and asks, “What is Fugaku’s current state of mind?”

She focuses in on his tense signature again.

…He’s agitated, doing the mental equivalent of pacing, running through the same thoughts and feelings over and over again.

“Tense, agitated. Impatient, but hopeful? He’s expecting something… Oh! I think he’s waiting for us to contact him.” That’s weird. Why didn’t he just contact them first?

Jiraiya snorts.

“That damned bastard Uchiha Fushima—what’s he planning _this_ time?”

Sensei hums. “Negotiations, I would assume. He is likely aiming for his son to replace Sarutobi-sensei should the coup be successful.”

Honōka huffs, loudly, and dramatically faints back onto the couch.

“Why are adults so _dumb,_ Kakashi?”

Kakashi grunts his agreement. He’s playing with his lucky kunai now, having sharpened every weapon in the apartment—and the kitchen knives too.

Sensei chuckles at them both.

Jiraiya takes her exasperated retort more seriously though.

“The Uchiha have been coveting that title since the founding of Konoha—”

She blows bubbles at him and ends with a noisy raspberry. He gawps at her unexpected behavior.

“'I have never seen the truth of the world as clearly as I do now, and wish with all mine heart that I had not let mine self become blinded by the hatred sown by mine own. I wonder, is it ironic that I could not see this with mine own eyes? That I can now look back and see that, by mine own pride, I slew my younger brother?

“'The truth of the matter is this: it takes more than power to secure peace. Peace cannot be bought with bloodshed, or subdued with power—it must be won and recognized by many, and then supported so that it may flourish and grow as the years do pass us all. Hashirama has won us but a tiny seed of peace, and it is the people of Konohagakure that have chosen to plant that seed in the heart of the Land of Fire. 

“'Someday, I pray, that from this single seed of peace, a mighty forest may spread across the continent—and forevermore, the blood of my children’s children will not be spoiled in hatred or in pride.'” She pauses and Jiraiya squints at her, face screwed up like he just ate something extremely sour. “From the private essay collection of one Uchiha Madara, January fifth, year two of the founding.”

Jiraiya looks to Sensei and gestures at her, helplessly. Sensei just smiles at him, pleasantly daring him to say something he wouldn’t like. Jiraiya turns back to her.

“Kid—what the hell are you even trying to get at here?”

She shrugs. “Maybe Uchiha Fushima-san is forgetting that his clan’s previous head and the co-founder of Konoha had pacifistic and democratic ideals before the First Shinobi World War?”

According to Fūbuki-obā-san, Uchiha Madara totally lost it just before the first war began.

“And I suppose you think he needs some reminding?” Jiraiya jokes.

“Definitely. We should set Fūbuki-obā-san off on him.” Obito’s grandmother is _fierce._

She moves to get up and Jiraiya pushes her back down into the couch with one finger.

“Nope, nope, _definitely_ not! You’re staying here while me and Orochi go rescue the Uchiha princess for the purpose of an inadvisable and morally questionable fūinjutsu experiment,” he rants. “Come on, Orochi, let’s go before your kid starts campaigning for demo- _crazy_. Sage have mercy, where does this kid think we live? The Land of Freaking Hot Water? Yugakure? ‘Pacifistic and democratic ideals’…? I could probably use that in my next book…”


	87. with finesse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I am naming Mikoto my heir when you marry.” He says.
> 
> “Oyaji? _Oyaji!_ That’s not fair and you know it!”

The clan (his father) does not handle the news of Shimura Danzō possibly being in possession of Kagami’s Mangekyō Sharingan well.

His father, head of the Uchiha Clan, Uchiha Fushima, was close friends with Kagami when they were children—much in the same way that Fugaku was close friends with Utsusu, Kagami’s only child. Fugaku wonders if one day, one of his own children might share the same fate with Utsusu’s son, Shisui.

He prays Shisui doesn’t inherit his father’s and grandfather’s penchant for dying young. That would be one more tragedy after several tragedies too many.

Either way, the mere possibility of his father’s former best friend’s eye being used by a non-Uchiha makes Fushima’s normally high-strung personality twice as bad. He orders the compound to lockdown, and Fugaku finds himself grounded for the first time in over a decade.

His father calls it house arrest for his own protection.

It’s the third day since they all arrived back from border patrol and no one has contacted him about the plan. The seal on his hand hasn’t activated this entire time, so he assumes Orochimaru and his team haven’t made any covert attempts to gather the usual group for further discussions.

He doesn’t explain this to his father—he would flip if he knew there was an unknown seal on his hand, so Fugaku lets his father think what he wants about him being left out of the loop.

His father thinks Orochimaru and the rest are uninterested in having the clan’s cooperation. Fugaku thinks they’ve been busy with other things.

Yoshino told him Jiraiya blew into town yesterday evening, so he expects they’re working on removing the damned Root seal. That would be according to plan. Convincing more people of Danzō’s treachery will require the concrete evidence sealed within Orochimaru’s memories.

He’s proven correct when two of three Sannin turn up at the estate. The sour look on his father’s face when he meets them in the formal sitting room is priceless.

“What, no Honōka?” he sasses, lips quirking up. He’s glad she’s not here—his father is not a young man anymore, and her blatant…eccentricities might just give him an aneurysm. And Fugaku wouldn’t put it pass her to quote the First Hokage, or Madara, at his father. He’s not sure which would be worse, or funnier.

Jiraiya scowls at him, looking like his expectations have been utterly betrayed, and Fugaku raises an eyebrow. The last time they met was when he was a broody teenager during the second war. Fugaku thinks Jiraiya should be relieved he’s not stuck in that phase of his life. 

Orochimaru politely hides his grin behind his cup of tea. 

Fugaku’s willing to bet good money that he and his student have been driving the Toad Sage crazy. 

“Fugaku, sit down.” His father orders. _Behave,_ he doesn’t say, but implies with a stern look.

Fugaku plops down on a zabuton cushion, cross-legged. He can almost hear his father grinding his teeth at the uncouth behavior. Gods above and gods below; he thought his father was finally cutting him some slack when he proposed to Mikoto.

He pours himself a cup of tea and they sit in uncomfortable silence for a long moment, sipping tea that tastes expensive but not much else. No one wants to be the first to speak or the first to give up the advantage of having the counter argument.

Jiraiya looks like he’s going to break the silence for the fraction of the second it takes Orochimaru to subtly chastise him with the clink of a teacup being set down slightly too hard. Jiraiya returns to holding his tongue.

Fugaku rolls his eyes. And they call _him_ the oji-san.

Politicking is more Mikoto’s thing than his—Fugaku has no patience for it, not after putting up with it from his father his entire life. And they don’t have time for it right now.

“So, what’s happening?” he asks. “Were you able to see the Hokage when you returned?”

Orochimaru does not sigh at him. It’s a near thing, though he thinks Orochimaru’s expression borders on wry amusement instead.

“No. As expected, Danzō has made arrangements to keep Sarutobi-sensei away from me and my student.”

Jiraiya nods. “He hasn’t requested to see me either, and when I swung by the Hokage residence, the Anbu guard turned me away, insisting he was in an important meeting.”

“Tsunade spoke with Biwako-sama at the hospital, and according to her, he has been busy with meetings.” Orochimaru says. “And yet, Utatane Koharu and Mitokado Homura have not left their own homes these past three days. No clan heads have been summoned to these rumored meetings either.”

His father nods. Fushima had the KKB do some sleuthing and discovered the same inconsistencies—the Hokage supposedly being busy with meetings that are clearly not happening.

“You think Koharu and Homura are complicit?”

“Yes, it would seem so.”

He doesn’t think they’re being manipulated by Kotoamatsukami or any other form of brainwashing then. That doesn’t bode well for them—how many other council members and clan heads are buying into Danzō’s covert takeover, willingly?

His father rumbles, crossing his arms across his broad chest. He sees the same issue.

“Suppose you successfully remove Shimura Danzō,” his father says. “Do you leave the man he subdued for twenty years in power?”

Jiraiya’s jaw flexes.

“Sarutobi Hiruzen is a symbol of strength in the elemental nations. We should do everything in our power to preserve his reputation during this… conflict.”

Fushima scoffs at him.

“I agree with Jiraiya.” Orochimaru says. “This matter should be handled silently and with finesse—if at all possible.”

He pauses.

“However, I do not believe Sarutobi-sensei should remain Hokage.”

“Orochimaru, you b—!”

Orochimaru cuts him off with a withering glare. “Sensei has expressed his desire to retire before, Jiraiya. I did wonder why he never followed through.”

Fugaku frowns.

“You think Danzō has been keeping him in power?” But why?

“I believe so. Danzō has recruited many Root agents over the years, but he rarely keeps any for longer than a couple years. Only those that are useful to him remain, and Sarutobi-sensei’s reputation is _very_ useful.”

“Sarutobi-sensei is more than his reputation…!” Jiraiya grits out. “He’s the God of Shinobi, the Professor!”

Orochimaru’s eyes narrow at his fellow Sannin.

“Yes, Jiraiya. Sensei is a powerful man—but he is getting old, and soft.”

_“Soft!”_

“It does happen, Jiraiya. Had age not softened Ōnoki, I would not be sitting here now. Sensei is only five years younger.”

“But, _soft!”_

Orochimaru rolls his eyes and mutters under his breath. “Honōka has Sensei wrapped around her little finger, Jiraiya.”

Something about that triggers a coughing fit from his father, and he hurriedly pours him another cup of tea. His attacks have been getting worse.

His father waves him off when he moves to get closer, shaking his head once. Not a fit. He choked on what then? A tea leaf? His own spit? _Laughter?_

Orochimaru patiently waits for Fushima to recover while Jiraiya looks destroyed by the Hokage doting on a young and promising shinobi—as though the Hokage has never done so before. Fugaku wonders if it’s different seeing it from the outsider’s perspective.

Fushima clears his throat one last time and addresses the Sannin.

“So, it would seem you do not agree with one another on…certain matters. Fugaku tells me the young heads of the Nara, Yamanaka, and Akimichi clans, are also involved.”

“And the Inuzuka Clan,” Fugaku reminds.

His father rolls his eyes at him. A clan comprising a brother-sister duo and two dogs hardly qualifies as a clan in his mind.

“Regardless of who is involved, the Uchiha Clan will no longer accept Sarutobi Hiruzen as Konohagakure’s Hokage.”

Jiraiya deflates but Orochimaru nods.

“This begs the question, who will take up the mantle?” his father asks.

The Sannin share a look and Jiraiya shakes his head.

“Don’t look at me—not my dream.”

Fushima scoffs at him.

“And you, Orochimaru?”

Their eyes meet and a stare-off ensues. Usually, he would bet on his father (or any Uchiha) but Orochimaru has that eye scale thing going for him. His father blinks first, scowling.

“This village was founded by the Senju and the Uchiha, and yet we have been repressed by the Senju and their so-called ideals. Senju Hashirama blunted our claws, and his brother shackled us with the Keimu Butai. Now his students think they can use us as their loyal attack dogs to beat unruly civilians into submission and steal our dōjutsu while our heads are turned. What liberties will you take with us, Orochimaru?”

“I am not a Senju, nor will I ever be the embodiment of one.” Orochimaru says. “My ideals likely do not align with the Senju’s, or with the Uchiha’s, and I will not expect you or anyone else to imitate me. But by all means, _do_ feel free to challenge my opinions, Fushima-san. I _love_ a good debate.”

“…”

“…”

Jiraiya attempts to pick up his teacup but knocks it over instead. It’s already empty, luckily.

“And if the Uchiha decide they would rather put forward their own candidate?”

Orochimaru’s cheek twitches and he eye-smiles at Fugaku.

“Who would you suggest, Fushima-san?”

“My son, Fugaku—”

 _Nope._ He shuts his father down _fast._

“Mikoto will _kill_ me if I take the bloody hat.” He already promised her he would take time off after the war to raise any kids they might have together. She wants to focus on upgrading from tokubetsu jōnin to jōnin so she’ll have all the credentials for Jōnin Commander if ( _when_ , Mikoto insists) Kushina becomes the first female Hokage.

His father grinds his teeth and this time he does hear it.

“Fugaku.”

“No.”

He will make a scene—guests be damned. It’s only Orochimaru and Jiraiya anyhow, they might find it awkward but they won’t be offended, or scandalized, he thinks.

“If you’re so determined to have an Uchiha become Hokage, why don’t you get a tutor for Obito? He _actually_ wants to become the damned Hokage.” 

That being said, if Honōka ever wants the hat, Obito won’t stand a chance. Fugaku can see her challenging him for it and cheerfully beating him half to death with a smile on her face.

Fushima abruptly stands and heads for the shōji door, no doubt in search of sake. 

“I am naming Mikoto my heir when you marry.” He says.

“Oyaji? _Oyaji!_ That’s not fair and you know it!”


	88. Fuji-kun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What? My publisher wants me to write a romance novel next—seems to think I’d be good at it—”
> 
> “Oh, _hell_ no!”

Uchiha Fushima releases his son into his and Jiraiya’s custody and politely tells them to get off his property. He then puts on his most formal haori and goes to visit ‘Mikoto-chan’.

Fugaku walks with them to Minato’s apartment in a state of shock. Orochimaru rolls his eyes at him.

“You are marrying Mikoto, are you not? I fail to see how it matters which of you becomes the legal heir.”

Jiraiya snorts and Fugaku sighs.

“The heir becomes Captain of the Konoha Military Police Force when my father retires. Mikoto is going to _kill_ me.”

He frowns. He does not know much about Uchiha Mikoto's character—other than she praised his students’ efforts on a D-rank mission (later upgraded to a C-rank at her behest) and bought them sukiyaki as a treat. And yet, this is the second time Fugaku has said she will ‘kill’ him. Hm.

They arrive, and Honōka ambushes Fugaku at the door, latching onto him like a monkey.

“Did your father yell at you? Are you okay? You seem… Not-happy-surprised. Do you need a hug, Fugaku-oji-chan?”

Fugaku shoots him a dry look and Orochimaru pries his student off him, tossing her at the couch. Predictably, Honōka lands on her feet and is back pestering them for more.

Fugaku squats and halts her second assault by jabbing a finger against her hitai-ate.

“I’m fine, kid. My old man just decided I was being an idiot and threatened to make my fiancée his heir.”

Kushina blows out laughing.

“Mikoto-nē is gonna kick ya in the ‘nads, Fu-ji.”

Fugaku scowls. “Don’t remind me, please.”

“Mikoto…?” Honōka says. “Mikoto-san from the KKB?”

Fugaku looks surprised.

“Yeah. You met her already?”

His student hums.

“Mikoto-san seems nice, but don’t let her bully you, okay? Jūn-sensei is afraid of her for some reason.”

Kushina laughs louder, stomping hard enough to make the floorboards rattle.

“Too late,” Fugaku groans. “She already bullied me into proposing.”

Perhaps this Uchiha Mikoto _should_ be the clan heir, Orochimaru thinks.

His student squints at the lovesick fool for a moment and nods, satisfied with her assessment of his poorly concealed fondness for his fiancée.

Jiraiya takes out a pocket-sized notebook and scribbles something down. Orochimaru raises an eyebrow at him.

“What? My publisher wants me to write a romance novel next—seems to think I’d be good at it—”

“Oh, _hell_ no!”

Fugaku lunges for the notebook, and Jiraiya brandishes his pencil like a kunai.

“Don’t go getting your panties in a twist, _Fuji-kun._ It’s just a bit of inspiration for my next novel!”

If the protagonist of Jiraiya’s next novel is not called Fuji, Orochimaru will be extremely disappointed.

“Sensei, can I bite the bad man?”

“Mind your teeth on his wire-mesh armor.”

They squabble for another ten minutes, and then Sensei puts his foot down before she can break more of Minato’s furniture. 

Honōka drags herself to the fridge, panting hard, and takes out the jug of orange juice. They were only play fighting so she didn’t use much chakra—she and Fugaku tried to wrestle Jiraiya into submission, but the toad man was too strong for them. She wanted Kakashi to help, but he just sat on the couch and watched them lose while eye-smiling. Traitor.

Fugaku clears his throat and sits down on the opposite side of the couch from Kakashi.

“I see you’re still working on the Root seal. I’m assuming the reason you guys sprung me from the compound is related.”

“Honōka has a new way of breaking fūinjutsu.” Kakashi says. “Tenko-sama taught her how, so we want to test it on a less dangerous seal first.”

“Tenko-sama…?” Fugaku pinches the bridge of his nose. “Right. The Kyūbi. Of course she sweet-talked the Kyūbi into teaching her something new.”

Kakashi shrugs. “Dimples.”

Minato sighs. “Kakashi… I don’t think the Kyūbi was won over by Honōka’s dimples.”

She puts down her glass of orange juice and smiles brightly, poking her fingers into her cheeks, stretching her lips wider to show off her serrated teeth. It took her a while to figure out how to get them all lined up and fitting together properly. Now she only bites her tongue or cheeks a couple times a week.

“With a smile like that, it’s a wonder the Kyūbi didn’t run away.” Jiraiya grunts.

“He couldn’t have, even if he wanted ta.” Kushina deadpans.

She pouts. “Sensei—”

“I know, Honōka. I know.”

He said it twice.

“He said it twice.” Kakashi says.

She purses her lips to blow a raspberry (or bubbles) at Kakashi, and he smacks her in the face with a pillow.

“You’re all hilarious,” Fugaku mutters, “and apparently, I’m a test subject today.”

She grins and points at her hand.

“I’m going to remove the password seal, okay?”

She drops into Fugaku’s liminal space and is surprised to find it dry—white sand and red sky exposed, with the barest hint of dark water on the far horizon. It could just be a mirage, she thinks.

The black flames of his nexus turn calmly, and she plucks on them once to get Fugaku’s attention.

“You’re finally taking this thing off, huh?” he asks, waving his right hand at her.

“Hand,” she says, holding out her own.

He rolls his eyes at her but offers her his palm.

The seal isn’t visible, but she knows it’s there. She squints and just… Wills it to reveal itself. It’s her seal, after all. The word ‘friend’ appears.

Tenko-sama said to tear it off and destroy it, but she marked it directly on Fugaku’s hand… With chakra?

She holds her hand over his and _pulls_ on the chakra in the seal. The glowing character ‘tomo’ lifts off his palm and floats between them. She scoops it up, cradling it in her cupped hands.

“…I don’t want to destroy it.”

Fugaku makes a sound in the back of his throat that’s part hum, part chuckle.

“You’re doing this for your Sensei, right?”

She nods and he grips her shoulder, firmly.

“Destroy it, get rid of it—do what you have to do to prove you can remove the Root seal, yeah?”

She looks at the innocent little character and nods again. For Sensei.

Honōka transforms her hands, exposing the eigengrau substance lurking just beneath her skin in this form. Her subconscious form—her liminal self?

The glowing character ‘tomo’ touches the staticky, almost fuzzy, blackness and breaks down. She reforms her hands.

Fugaku pats her head and crouches next to her.

“I’m still your friend, kid. A seal doesn’t change that.”

She snorts, and if she sounds a little choked up, that’s between her and Fugaku.

Honōka blinks.

“It worked,” she informs them.

Jiraiya does a double take. “What? Already?”

“Minato, why don’t you set up that secret clubhouse barrier thing it's connected with?” Fugaku suggests.

“It’s called the imperceptible barrier seal…”

“Yeah, that.”

Minato sighs and does as bid. He uses the seal a lot in his apartment, so it’s as quick and easy as sticking one last piece of paper on the wall. The rest of the fūinjutsu's jutsu-shiki is etched into the drywall. Minato is _definitely_ not getting his damage deposit back.

Fugaku holds out his hand and the seal does not glow on his hand—it’s gone. Minato pulls the piece of paper off the wall again. She thinks he doesn’t want to draw Inoichi’s attention.

Jiraiya crosses his arms.

“So the kid’s method works on simple seals. How sure are we it will work on Orochi’s?”

“Tenko-sama said it would work on their seal.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that, brat. The Kyūbi’s probably hoping you’ll use it on them someday.” Jiraiya says. “What I’m asking is, will it work on the Root seal and not cause lethal or near lethal harm?”

She considers.

“I pulled the seal directly off Fugaku’s liminal form without hurting him. I know I could have, if I wasn’t careful. When I fought Bakuton no Daruma in his liminal space, I stabbed him and it injured both his liminal self and his physical body.”

“You what?!”

Kakashi raises his hand. “Can confirm. Honōka used her Shinryūgan to injure Daruma somehow at the start of the fight.”

Sensei’s interest spikes.

“You weaponized your dōjutsu? How?”

“Inoichi-san told me some things I already use it for can cause serious harm if done incorrectly. So I tried to pull Daruma's mind apart, but it was too sticky, and he noticed. I stabbed him in the leg to distract him long enough to escape, and when I returned to reality, he was holding his leg.”

Jiraiya’s eyebrow and check muscle spasms. He turns to Sensei. “How much of this do I blame on you?”

Sensei looks him dead in the eye and gestures with _her_ gesture! She giggles.

“About that much, wouldn’t you say, Honōka?”

Jiraiya combs back his spiky white hair and blows out a long sigh.

“You know what—go for it, kid. You can’t possibly make this situation worse—he clearly already has brain damage.”

“You have brain damage!”

She sticks her tongue out at the bad toad man, forking it for bonus points. He retorts by putting his thumbs in his ears and sticking his tongue out too—and woah! Why is there a pearl on his tongue?! Is that a piercing? So cool!

Minato covers his face. “Why is everyone I know like this?”

“Maa… Maybe you’re the unusual one, Minato?”

Minato chokes and Kushina pets his yellow-gold hair.

“Don’t worry, don’t worry! I like ya just the way ya are, Minato.”

Minato leans over and hugs Kushina, resting his head on her shoulder, and closes his eyes. There are dark circles under his eyes. He’s really stressed out—more stressed out than he was during border patrol, Honōka thinks.

She shakes her head and makes grabby paws at Sensei. “Can I remove the seal now? And do you think Danzō will notice when it’s gone?” She casts out her sensory-field and looks for the bastard, but he’s somewhere she can’t sense. Boo.

Jiraiya rubs his chin as he considers.

“…He’ll notice. Probably.”

“Should we delay removing the seal?” Fugaku asks. “He might attack if he thinks he has nothing to lose.”

Sensei shakes his head. “He would have taken me out by now, if he were able. However, my reputation is above reproach, and he did me the…favor…of removing my most questionable experiment from the picture.”

Danzō thought he could force Sensei to submit by doing that. That and putting them all under surveillance. Surveillance isn’t that scary when you know it’s happening, though, or when you can argue with the sensor types by using Shinobi Standard Tap Code. Honōka’s managed to infuriate three different Root agents so far.

“Sensei?” she asks.

He nods. “I am ready to be rid of this curse.”


	89. general eccentricities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Honōka pouts and hops down onto the beach. She picks up a flat rock and skips it on the calm surface. She thinks she got about eighty-five consecutive skips.
> 
> Sensei scoffs and jumps down next to her, scooping up another flat rock.
> 
> “Watch how it’s done, Honōka.”

Honōka kneels next to the hole she punched in the glasslike surface of the lake surrounding Sensei’s island. She thinks the seal is somewhere down there… Maybe.

The seal is also on Sensei’s tongue—aiming for that part of the seal is looking like it might be easier than diving into the exposed trigger.

Tenko-sama said to ‘look inside’ and ‘find the seal’. Which one did they mean?

In Kushina’s case, her seal is a slip of paper with ‘seal’ written on it. Her seal is also over her lower dantian, where the full jutsu-shiki of the Four Symbols Seal can be seen both inside and outside of her liminal space.

For Fugaku, the entirety of his seal was the character ‘tomo’ and only showed itself when Minato’s barrier seal was active or when she asked it to. It didn’t have a representation in his liminal space.

So, does she go for the jutsu-shiki? or the representation in the liminal space…? Tenko-sama said it should be simple for someone with her capabilities—does it matter which side of the seal she aims for? _Should_ it matter?

She leans over the break in the frozen surface and squints. It’s… Dark.

“Sensei—” she calls.

“What is it, Honōka?”

He leans over the open trigger and her heart races. She jumps up and bullies him off the lake, and he lets her, amused by her attempts to strong-arm him.

“I think a representation of the seal is in the lake.” She says.

“But not the actual seal?”

“Hm… I think the representation is connected to the actual seal, and would work for Tenko-sama’s method but… It’s scary down there.”

Sensei frowns at her. “Would you like me to go with you?”

“NO!” definitely not! He died the last time he went down there!

Sensei’s lip quirks, and he crosses his arms at her.

“I improvised a bit with Fugaku-oji-chan’s seal, and it worked out fine, so I’m going to do the same for yours.”

Sensei fondly shakes his head at her.

“If you tried to learn things the way others do, you would never learn anything, yes?”

She grins up at her sensei.

“You remembered!”

“Indeed,” he chuckles and tweaks her braid. “Now, I believe you have a seal to remove?”

She nods and takes Sensei’s hand in hers, leading him to the grassy bank above the rocky beach. She kneels down and Sensei sits cross-legged in front of her.

Honōka takes a deep breath and feels for Danzō’s greasy chakra. With her eyes, with the Shinryūgan, she focuses on sensing the shape it takes.

Her eyes sting, and she feels something shifting just under the surface. Sensei holds very still while staring directly into her eyes, curiosity turning over in his head. She ignores him and the shape of the seal gradually comes into focus.

The thirty-first hexagram, xian, reveals itself. Its inner trigram (bound, mountain) and outer trigram (open, swamp) connect with a series of vertical lines that thread through Sensei’s brain, with tiny teeth that lock it in place. That would be why Kushina and Jiraiya thought it was a bad idea to just rip the thing out.

She narrows her eyes at the seal and exerts her will on it.

 _Let go of my Sensei,_ she thinks.

The seal trembles but holds.

**_Now._ **

The teeth retract, and Honōka makes a pulling gesture with one hand.

Sensei gasps and almost covers his mouth to catch the seal he feels sliding out of the roof of his mouth. She pulls harder and the seal darts into her open hands—hands that are eigengrau.

Honōka crushes her palms together, and the seal disappears into the velvety darkness. She waits a moment to be certain and then lets her hands revert. She glances up and inspects Sensei for any lingering traces of Danzō’s chakra.

“Ow.” Sensei says, voice dry.

She shrugs. “It wanted to fight me.”

“Did it now?”

She lets out the breath she didn’t know she was holding, relieved. Sensei’s just the same, with or without the seal! She glances at the lake.

“Look, Sensei! It’s not frozen anymore!”

The water is still smooth and mirror-like, but there’s movement here and there. A leaf lands on the lake and casts a trail of ripples as it sails across the surface—a gentle breeze guiding it. Near the shore, she can see the rocky bottom—murky darkness gone. 

Sensei hums.

“I see only minor changes—but I spend very little time here, unlike you.”

Honōka pouts and hops down onto the beach. She picks up a flat rock and skips it on the calm surface. She thinks she got about eighty-five consecutive skips.

Sensei scoffs and jumps down next to her, scooping up another flat rock.

“Watch how it’s done, Honōka.”

…!

Over two hundred skips?!

“Sensei, you cheated!”

He laughs and roughs up her hair.

Orochimaru opens his eyes, free for the first time in nearly twenty years. His head feels lighter, _clearer._ He pushes his tongue against the roof of his mouth and the greasy texture of the seal is gone.

His euphoria is short-lived.

A glass smashes on the kitchen tile and orange juice splatters the floor and counters. Honōka grinds the heels of her palms into her eyes and Fugaku flickers to her first, grabbing her wrists and forcing her hands away. She fists her hands, knuckles turning white, and squeezes her eyes shut as tears stream down her face.

“Hurts,” she whimpers, blood trickling down her chin. She bit her tongue. “Bright…!”

He weaves the seals for Tsunade’s diagnostic technique, and she cowers away from him, hissing. He lets the technique drop.

“Fugaku, check her left eye—she is not supposed to put _any_ pressure on it.”

He kneels, and the pain he feels from broken glass digging into his knees is a minor and temporary discomfort.

“Honōka, what happened? Did something change with the Shinryūgan?”

Fugaku is carefully attempting to pry her left eye open, so she does not nod. Instead, she signs the affirmative in Shinobi Standard Sign Language.

“Do you know what changed?”

She swallows. “Bright.”

Fugaku prizes up her eyelid, and the curious gold and opalescent pupil from the liminal space is still there. It rests within the red outer pupil and dilates independently of it. The eye itself has not ruptured from her rough handling, which is a relief.

“Cut the flow, kid.” Fugaku says. “Stop molding chakra.”

Honōka does as instructed and the elongated pupil shrinks until it closes, but does not disappear entirely. A thin vertical line remains, likely invisible in poor lightning and at a respectable distance for polite conversation.

Her hands relax and she sags forward, like a puppet with its strings cut. Fugaku steadies her.

“You gonna be sick, kid?”

She shakily gestures, ‘so-so’.

“Right.” Fugaku pushes her into his arms. “You’re the sensei, I don’t get paid for dealing with vomit.”

He clicks his tongue at him. He doesn’t get paid for dealing with his student being sick all over him, either. Is it really so surprising no one _wants_ to be a jōnin-sensei? He rubs her back and hopes she does not throw up on him.

“Minato, you have a windowless room or blackout curtains here?” Fugaku asks.

“Yeah, the office.” Minato says. “Kakashi, grab the spare futon. I’ll clear a spot.”

Kakashi gives himself a firm shake and retrieves the futon from the hallway closet. 

“I’ll make tea.” Kushina says. “Mint?”

“Something with caffeine,” Fugaku suggests. “Coffee—”

“Not coffee,” his student says, nearly gagging.

“Tea, then. Do you drink matcha?” Fugaku asks.

She sticks her tongue out. That’s a no.

“Green or black tea, then—doesn’t matter which. Minato, do you have any anti-inflammatory medications here?”

“In the fridge, on the door, Kushina-nē.” Kakashi says. Kushina nods and finds the glass pill bottle. 

Jiraiya awkwardly points at the door. “Should I get Tsunade-hime?”

“She is in a meeting, Jiraiya.” Orochimaru reminds him—an important one.

“Right.”

Minato pushes a crate filled with large scrolls, larger brushes, and one massive ink stone into the hall. Kakashi steps around him and lays down the futon, beating out the lumps acquired from months of disuse. 

He brushes off his knees and stands, carrying Honōka as smoothly as he can. She presses her face into her elbow and (thankfully) does not throw up on him. He lays her down in the cluttered office and accepts the damp cloth and bowl of ice water Kakashi brings him. Honōka is not feverish, but a cool cloth over the eyes rarely goes astray.

Orochimaru attempts the diagnostic jutsu again. Honōka does not flinch or cower.

He frowns.

Either he needs to brush up on his eye anatomy, or his student has spontaneously developed double fovea and several too many layers in her retina. _Why?_

He thinks this must be recent—very recent—because Tsunade would have noticed the precursors of this strange condition during her emergency eye surgery. 

Unfortunately, he does not have time to study it in more detail. His memories are his own again, and he has several meetings to organize with the Inoshikachō trio. He’s almost feeling giddy about his planned trip to T&I. 

It’s been quite some time since he’s been to Konohagakure’s Intelligence Division, as even Danzō is cautious of their unusual abilities, keen intellects, and general eccentricities. As he should be.

Honōka smiles, lip quivering despite her best efforts, and unerringly pats his cheek. 

“We’re going to get him, Sensei—and he’s not going to know what hit him.”

"Rest." He takes her hand and tucks it under the cover. "Kakashi, you are in charge of Honōka while I am gone."

Kakashi nods and Kushina snorts.

“Why am I never in charge of Honōka-chan?” Minato asks, with just a hint of whining.

“Because she does not listen to you.” At least with Kakashi in charge, Orochimaru knows there’s a fifty-fifty chance of a saner mind prevailing. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it's common for birds of prey to have double fovea--it means they can see even the barest hint of movement. They have several other things that help their visual acuity, which I'll probably be go into more detail later.


	90. lingering memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I wouldn’t want to run into Mikoto in a dark alley.” Hizashi says. “She’s been pestering me for taijutsu tips lately, like her bukijutsu isn’t already terrifying. I’m half afraid she's planning to kidnap me!”

Jiraiya accompanies him to the Yamanaka Clan compound. Strategically, it’s the best defended of the three clans, and the most modest. 

The Yamanaka Clan compound is located at the central most point of Konohagakure and the ‘face’ of the clan is their famous flower shop and botanical garden. The modern building inside the ‘u’ shaped property is the Detection Division, owned and operated by the Yamanaka. It houses jutsu-shiki for the massive Sensing Barrier that surrounds Konoha, and only members of the Yamanaka clan are privy to the technique’s secrets.

The Interception Division is stationed here also, and it is they who greet them.

“Jiraiya-sama, Orochimaru-sama!”

Hyūga Hizashi. 

Orochimaru heard the younger Hyūga twin finally made it to jōnin. Of course, his family saw fit to squander his talents on the one division dominated by so-called ‘cannon fodder’. Ridiculous.

Jiraiya throws his arm over Hizashi’s shoulders and messes up his perfect hair, while scrupulously minding his hitai-ate.

“Seen anything nice, recently, Hizashi-kun?” Jiraiya teases, wagging his brows at the younger man.

Hizashi laughs.

“Jiraiya-sama, you are a menace! I suppose I should warn you Mikoto joined the military police while you were away.”

“I heard! She’s got quite the reputation already!”

“I wouldn’t want to run into Mikoto in a dark alley.” Hizashi says. “She’s been pestering me for taijutsu tips lately, like her bukijutsu isn’t already terrifying. I’m half afraid she planning to kidnap me!”

“Hn~nh?” Jiraiya whips out his notebook and pencil. “Sounds scandalous!”

Hizashi’s amiable smile cracks.

“No, no! Nothing like that, Jiraiya-sama! Fugaku-sama will _kill_ me if he hears you spreading rumors about me and Mikoto…!”

“Ohohoho…!”

Jiraiya’s face flushes as he furiously scribbles, grinning like a fool—like a _pervert._ Honestly, he hasn’t changed one bit.

Hizashi, like Fugaku, struggles to steal the notebook from Jiraiya. Even a taijutsu expert, reputedly a genius, is no match for Jiraiya as he dances around him without pausing his note taking. He makes it look easy—infuriatingly so.

He gives up on besting Jiraiya in combat and activates his Byakugan. Orochimaru watches the subtle transformation with great interest.

The pale irides and normally indistinguishable pupils shift and open from the center. He assumes that means the radial muscle was closed prior to activation. The iris must be transparent if that is the case—or there may be rods and cones embedded in the iris itself. Or! Perhaps what appears to be the iris is an everted retina, like that of a cephalopod.

And in Honōka’s case, perhaps what appears to be two distinct pupils is actually two separate layers of radial muscle. The blue layer that dilates over the semi-transparent red layer, and the red layer that protects the highly reflective and photosensitive golden colored pupil. He did not consider this before.

Hizashi squints at Jiraiya and his notebook, then gasps.

“That…! That’s slanderous, Jiraiya-sama!”

“Come on, Hizashi-kun, live a little! It’s inspiration for my next book!”

Hizashi sighs and massages his temples. The pulsing veins around his eyes relax.

“I suppose, it’s not as though anyone will recognize us from an outlandish piece of fiction… but please change my character’s name, Jiraiya-sama. ‘Hisashi’ is not that different from Hizashi! People might get confused!”

“As riveting as Jiraiya’s next book will surely be, we are here for other matters, Hizashi.”

Hizashi’s demeanor changes from playful to serious in a blink. He nods.

“Yes. Inoichi-sama said you would be by soon, Orochimaru-sama. I apologize for allowing myself to be distracted by Jiraiya-sama.”

“No worries, Hizashi-kun—I’m a distracting kind of guy!”

“Jiraiya, that is not a compliment.”

“It is so!”

Hizashi escorts them to the main house, and Orochimaru is reminded of his own family home.

Empty. _Cold._ Silent but for the lingering memories. 

Lonely.

Inoichi is the only member of the main family and has been for two years now. His parents perished on the Kiri front just before the Third Shinobi World War began.

Before that, Nara Shikaku’s mother died on a mission near the Kumo border, and his father died the decade before during the second war.

Chōza’s parents also died in the second war, on a battlefront not so far from where he, Jiraiya, and Tsunade had been stationed.

He feels a flicker of doubt. Should he be involving the young trio in this volatile situation? Is there no way for him to solve it on his own? They have already lost so much to Danzō’s schemes—some of which he may even share the blame for.

“You doing okay?” Jiraiya asks.

He nods and takes a sip of the tea Hizashi brought them. It’s a hearty floral blend, and quite enjoyable—unlike the lukewarm water and leaf juice Fushima served them earlier.

“It’s been a long day, yeah?”

“I am fine, Jiraiya.”

He scoffs. “Are you?”

“Yes—”

Jiraiya pokes him between the eyebrows, massaging the pucker that has appeared there. Orochimaru near snarls at him and bats his hand away. Jiraiya chuckles.

“Ah, damn. I forgot to get my water and electricity turned back on. Is it too late now, you think?”

It’s after sixteen hundred—the relevant office is closed by now, he thinks. Orochimaru does not tell Jiraiya it’s simple enough to turn on the water and power himself. The oaf would electrocute himself trying.

“Hey, let me crash at your place again.”

Orochimaru makes his best put-upon expression and sighs. He is not actually averse to Jiraiya staying another night. Prefers it, even. He’ll sleep sounder knowing he has Jiraiya at his back.

“You are buying dinner.”

“Sounds fair to me.”

…

Inoichi and Torifu enter from the engawa, and Orochimaru’s eyes are drawn to the barest hint of the older man’s massive muscles showing on his Akimichi stature. 

His eyes narrow. That means nothing good.

“What happened?”

“Root agents watching Sachiko-chan and the boys.” Torifu grunts. “Ain’t anything left of them now.”

“Pity. Honōka could have practiced seal removal on them.” And made it painful, he’s sure.

Inoichi lets out a relieved breath. “I thought so. That’s why you signaled with Minato’s barrier earlier, right? She removed the Root seal?”

Yes, and no. They hadn’t intended to signal to him, but that was a rather obvious side effect of them using Minato’s seal to confirm if Fugaku’s seal had been successfully removed. He won’t refute him, though. It sounds much more… professional.

“Indeed,” he says. “My memories are no longer sealed.” They can proceed with the plan, uncomfortable as that may prove for himself.

“I spoke to Morino Michi-san in T&I, and he referred me to the Analysis Team from the same building. Dokuraku Shiemi-san is in charge there, and while she is young, she has the most reliable and irrefutable technique for recording memories. Morino-san called it a quasi-kekkei genkai.”

Interesting.

“Do you believe the members of the Intelligence Division, both T&I and the Analysis Team, are clean?”

Kōmori slipped in undetected—for years. However, the Mobile Sensory Team is known for its high turnover, given sensor types are rarely gifted with battlefield prowess in addition to their more refined senses.

Inoichi twirls his ponytail.

“I asked if I could check… like Honōka does—kind of.” He blushes. Curious. “They agreed—Morino-san made me promise to join the Intelligence Division in exchange, and Shiemi-san has agreed to teach me the ropes.”

The Yamanaka hiden jutsu in the hands of the Intelligence Division? T&I would kill for those techniques—or apparently poach the Head of the Yamanaka Clan for his skills. He resists the urge to snort at Inoichi’s naivety.

Jiraiya frowns.

“Inoichi-kun, what about your team?”

“…I’m not a combat type—Shikaku and Chōza know this. I’ll fight when they need me, but only because they know my weaknesses better than I do, and I trust them to help me cover those weaknesses… But I think I’ll be much happier in the Intelligence Division.”

He did a half decent job of holding the border patrol’s Intelligence Division together—with Shikaku urging him on. Orochimaru is sure he’ll do better when he finds his self-confidence.

“How soon can we have the Analysis Team start on Orochimaru’s memories? He’s got dirt on that bastard that is literally decades—”

“Two,” he scowls. Jiraiya makes him sound older than he is.

“—old.”

Inoichi clears his throat and fidgets with his bangs. Jiraiya reaches for his notebook again and Orochimaru prods him with a senbon under the low table. It’s just a warning jab—he doesn’t stab him hard enough to draw blood. Jiraiya coughs to hide his yelp.

“I’ll ask Shiemi-san tomorrow morning…” Inoichi says, “and I’ll get Honōka-kun’s attention when I have an exact time.”

Orochimaru nods and slips his senbon back into his sleeve.

“The situation with Sachiko and her sons, is it handled, Torifu-san?”

“Shikaku and Chōza are guarding the house, and Shikaku’s assigning a rotational guard with our best shinobi.”

“Good.” 

He does not need anything else happening to Honōka or the family members she cares about.

They eat at a sukiyaki restaurant in Akimichi-chō for dinner and then meander towards Tsunade’s favorite bar. It’ll be the first place she goes when she finishes her meeting with the daimyō’s representative. 

No sooner have they sat down does Tsunade appear, taking the seat they left open between them for her.

She collapses face down at the bar counter and heaves a great sigh. Her eyes look suspiciously red-rimmed. 

“Get your big ass forehead off my counter, Tsunade-hime,” the bar master says. “Or I ain’t serving you.”

She gives him the finger and he lets out a barking laugh—and pours her a tall glass of cheap liquor, no ice.

“I take it it did not go well.” He says.

Tsunade shakes her head.

“Where are we burying the body?” Jiraiya asks.

She shakes her head again and gives them a thumbs up.

“He’s in our court now—the Uchiha’s court.”

“Seriously?”

She nods.

Jiraiya whoops, banging his fist on the bar counter, and the bar master yells profanities at him. It isn’t hard to guess why Tsunade prefers this bar.

“How’d you do it?!”

She lifts her face and points at her reddened eyes.

“I took a page out of Ojī-chan’s book.”

“And what’s that?”

“Crying.”

Orochimaru _cackles._


	91. bad influences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Root agent takes one look at Kushina—standing proudly in a patch of moonlight in front of the Anbu apartments, red hair reflecting the pale light while nine tuffs stick out of her messy bun, reminiscent of a certain fox—and retreats.

Honōka attempts to sleep off the burning sting in her eyes and nauseating vertigo with mixed results.

The darkness helps, and she falls asleep… but she almost wishes she hadn’t.

Honōka dreams.

She dreams of morning mist and a horizon the color of pale mandarins, of a house on a hill and a one-way street. She dreams of an empty dōjō and two dusty Iittala cups; she dreams of the four-way stop Tomoe passed on her way to school every day for a decade of her life.

Honōka does not dream of the gray Toyota Sprinter.

She blinks, and she’s sitting at the station waiting for the next train. A boy Tomoe’s age sits next to her in a stiff black coat, hood pulled up, face obscured.

He could be anyone—Tomoe's classmate, or a boy from another school, Honōka thinks. She looks at his feet. Shinobi sandals.

She leans forward and angles herself to scowl at him, but he keeps looking straight ahead, black goggles hiding his eyes. He has a strange blue marking on his right cheek, near the corner of his mouth.

“Get out of my head.” She tells him.

“This is a dream,” he says.

“Get out of my dream, then.”

“…”

“Out. Now.”

“This is my dream…?”

Honōka frowns. She’s pretty sure this is her dream.

“Do you dream of train stations in Tokyo often?”

The boy slowly turns his head her way.

“Did Toriyama-sensei ever finish _Dragon Ball?”_

She jolts awake and struggles with the futon covers, driving her elbow into Kakashi’s gut as she does. He wheezes and rolls away.

“Honōka, what the hell?!”

“Minato!” she shouts. “We’re stealing a Root agent, ‘kay? Bye!”

She gets as far as the sliding glass balcony door before Kakashi tackles her to the floor, and Minato and Kushina burst from the bedroom.

Ew. They sleep together? In the _same_ bed?? Not appropriate.

Minato flips a light switch and she covers her eyes, hissing at him.

“Sorry!” He flips the switch again and she resumes struggling to escape the apartment via the balcony. “Hey!”

He turns the lights back on, and Kakashi puts her in an arm bar.

“What’s gotten in ta her, Kakashi?” Kushina asks, rubbing her own eyes.

“No idea, Kushina-nē. Honōka’s prone to sudden bouts of crazy.”

“I’m not crazy! I met someone from before, but he’s a Root agent now—we have to go rescue him, Kakashi! He doesn’t even know how _Dragon Ball_ ended!”

“See?” Kakashi says. “Crazy.”

“Is there a reason we have to do this now?”

“Danzō made him kill his own father while we were on border patrol and is going to falsify his death soon to complete his recruitment into the foundation.”

“Honōka-chan, how do you—” Minato facepalms. “You removed his Root seal, didn’t you?”

She nods vigorously and Kakashi squishes her cheeks like Sensei sometimes does. His hands are too small though, and she licks his fingers. He grunts and rubs his hand on her shirt. For someone who likes dogs, he _really_ doesn’t like being licked.

“Where is he?” Minato asks.

“Anbu apartments, four-hundred-fifty meters north-northwest.”

“…you’re not supposed to know about the Anbu apartments, Honōka-chan.”

She gives Minato her best _look._

“Right, sensor type—why did I ever think any secret would be safe from you?”

“Why are we rescuing this guy if he’s still in Anbu?” Kakashi asks. “Shouldn’t he be safe there?”

“Nope! Danzō poaches most his agents from Anbu.”

“Oh, the guys at the Bureau of Statistics are gonna love that, ‘ttebane.” Kushina drawls. She twists her long red hair into a bun. “The paperwork is gonna be a nightmare when all this is over, yeah?”

Minato sighs and straps on his tool pouch. “I don’t want to think about it. The Bureau always ropes me into being their gopher…”

Kakashi frowns. “Wait, we’re actually rescuing this guy? Sensei said—!”

Kushina lifts Kakashi off her and gives him a quick noogie. Honōka sees the lightning natured energy in Kakashi’s hair being tamped down by Kushina’s wind nature. His silver hair hangs in his face until he shakes it out again, little pops of light racing from strand to strand. She squints. What?

“Sensei said I’m in charge of Honōka while he’s not around…!”

“And Minato’s in charge of you, and I’m in charge of Minato, ‘ttebane!” Kushina grins. “Are we expecting resistance when we pick this guy up from Anbu, Honōka-chan?”

She shakes her head and immediately regrets it. Her bobbing field of vision is jarring.

“There are two Root agents at the apartments besides Ryōma-kun. They haven’t noticed anything, yet. According to Ryōma-kun, Danzō _does_ notice when his seals are removed, but he thinks Danzō might be ‘sufficiently’ distracted by the situation with Sensei.”

“We should get Orochimaru-sensei before we do anything else.” Kakashi interrupts, crossing his arms.

“Sensei went out drinking with Tsunade-san and the White-haired Jiji.” Again. Sensei’s friends are being bad influences, she thinks.

“I thought it was strange Orochimaru-sensei didn’t come back to check on you,” Minato muses. “Are they out of commission?”

She nods, because they’re _still_ drinking. It’s like, three o’clock in the morning!

“…How are your eyes?”

Honōka shrugs. “They’re fine as long as I don’t mold chakra, I think.” Everything’s still brighter than it should be—glowy—and when she moves her head too fast, she feels motion-sick. She can work around those things.

Minato considers the situation for a moment.

“Alright. You can come, but you’re only pointing out which room is ‘Ryōma-kun’s’. Also, are we kidnapping him, or is he coming along willingly?”

“Willingly. One of the Root agents at the Anbu apartments is a sensor type—he just needs backup in case they try to stop him.”

Kushina punches her fist into an open palm and smiles. It’s a smile that’s just a little _not nice._

“They can try, ‘ttebane.”

“Kushina, please, we’re not trying to start a fight tonight.”

“We shouldn’t be trying to start anything…” Kakashi grumbles. “Are you sure you aren’t being tricked, Honōka? What if this is a trap?”

“Kakashi, he knows who Piccolo is!”

“Pi-Pikkoro?”

“Exactly!”

Kakashi throws his head back and stares at the ceiling, taking a deep, calming breath. 

“Minato, please tell Honōka this a bad idea and we’re not doing it.”

Minato shrugs and ties on his hitai-ate. “I’m not the boss of Honōka-chan.”

“You’re supposed to be the reasonable one, Minato!” 

“According to Orochimaru-sensei, you’re the reasonable one, actually.”

Kakashi stomps his feet all the way back to the office and reappears with his tool pouch and their forehead protectors. He tosses one at her—which she assumes is hers. She can never tell which is which, but trusts Kakashi’s nose.

“If this ends badly, I’m blaming you guys.”

“Equal participation means equal blame, Kakashi.” She says.

“You ganged up on me! I’m just coming along to make sure no one gets killed…”

She rolls her eyes and slides the balcony door open. “Don’t be so dramatic, Kakashi.”

“Yeah, Kakashi, don’t be such a worrywart.” Minato says.

Kakashi gapes at them behind his mask. It’s _his_ job to cheekily agree with her. He growls and pushes past them, jumping from the two-story balcony to the ground with ease. She follows.

“That building, right?” Kakashi asks, pointing with his chin to the newer building at the end of the dirt road.

She nods. Minato and Kushina follow more stealthily. A shadow on the roof of the building disappears and Kakashi tenses.

“Root?”

“The sensor type,” she agrees.

“…” Kakashi adjusts his tool pouch. “Where did they go?”

“Towards a substation.” Honōka thinks she’s not the only one to have realized the effects of electricity on sensor abilities. It’s probably how Danzō has been avoiding detection. Why use tricky barrier seals when there’s existing infrastructure with passive sensory-field nullification?

“Which room, Honōka-chan?” Minato asks, near invisible.

She can still see his nexus, but his body has somehow become transparent. Jiraiya’s jutsu, she thinks. There’s the faintest shimmer when he catches the moonlight just right.

“Fourth floor, third from the left.”

Minato walks up the building and knocks on the window. These apartments are boring and don’t have balconies. 

The window opens and Ryōma climbs out. He’s carrying a strangely shaped gourd but no other belongings. That’s just sad.

The next window over opens and the remaining Root agent sticks their head out. Ryōma and the Root agent stare at each other, and then Kushina clears her throat.

The Root agent takes one look at Kushina—standing proudly in a patch of moonlight in front of the Anbu apartments, red hair reflecting the pale light while nine tuffs stick out of her messy bun, reminiscent of a certain fox—and retreats.

Most Root agents feel little of anything, but Kushina’s presence elicits the slightest twinge of fear—without her even using killing intent.

“Kushina-san, you’re so cool.” Honōka whispers, unprompted.

Kushina bounces over to her and smacks her on the back. It knocks the wind out of her, but Honōka doesn’t complain.

“Ah, thanks, Honōka-chan! Ya don’t have ta keep calling me so formal-like, ya know?”

“Kushina… nē?” That’s what Kakashi calls her. It doesn’t sound right on her tongue. “Ane?”

Kushina lights up at ‘Ane’, so Honōka decides to call her Ane from then on.

Minato approaches with Ryōma, still invisible (probably shadowing him with a kunai trained on his neck), and Honōka smiles up at the gangly teenager.

“I have successfully defected.” He reports. “Will you now tell me how _Dragon Ball_ ended?”


	92. “Disassociating is the word I believe you are looking for, Kushina.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s just some dumb story…”
> 
> Honōka gasps.
> 
> “Kakashi, you take that back! It’s so much more than some ‘dumb story’! It’s a precious childhood memory—”

All is not right in Konohagakure when Orochimaru wakes, hung over for the second morning in a row. He’s _still_ drunk, and the room is _spinning._

“Tsunade—” he clamps down on the urge to be violently ill. “Please, make it stop…!”

Tsunade rolls out of bed and disappears into the brightly lit doorway—and leaves it that way. He almost passes out from the assault to his sensitive eyes.

She returns with a bucket.

“No…!”

“Just throw up, you big baby. You’ll feel better when you do.”

“Please, Tsunade—just make it stop…” he _knows_ she can do it.

“You have alcohol poisoning, Orochi, and you’re dehydrated. One second, I’ll be right back.”

Tsunade leaves him again and he pitifully hangs over the side of the bed, and vomits into the damned bucket.

“Good job, Orochimaru! I knew you could do it.”

He hisses at her.

“Here—water, juice, and a soldier pill. I _might_ consider breaking down the alcohol in your bloodstream if you finish it all.”

“I hate you.”

“I hate you, too.”

Jiraiya snorts in his deep, alcohol-induced sleep and rolls, throwing a leg over Orochimaru’s hip.

“How does he keep up with us and not die from alcohol poisoning?” Tsunade asks.

He chokes down the soldier pill and chases away the chalky residue with water.

“The toad summoning contract and senjutsu, I suspect. Senjutsu permanently alters aspects of human physiology. I assume he’s releasing the alcohol through his pores, similar to a toad releasing toxins through the skin.”

“You know, that makes sense. He _reeks_ of boozes.”

He gulps down the small glass of orange juice Tsunade brought him and beckons for her to come closer.

She coos at him. He resists the urge to be sick on her feet.

“You’re being such a good patient today, Orochi.”

“Tsunade, please—just cure my hangover.”

She kneels next to his bedside and _bops_ him on the nose.

_“No.”_

He collapses back onto the bed and groans. Jiraiya tosses an arm over him and clings.

“Jiraiya—!”

Jiraiya grumbles and tightens his hold on him, squeezing the breath from his lungs. He squeaks, a sound he cannot avoid making while the oaf nips his diaphragm in half with his burly arm, and Tsunade covers her laughter with both hands.

“Tsunade…!”

“Later!” she sings, waving to him once. “I’ve got work!”

She always has _work._

He has to use considerable force to escape Jiraiya’s death grip, and by the time he is free, he’s woken the brute. Orochimaru sees no further point in sleep, as he’s expecting to hear from Inoichi—through Honōka—soon.

He showers and dresses in jōnin attire, and starts on a simple breakfast while Jiraiya showers.

Honōka has not stolen the eggs out of his fridge today. Good.

He makes egg-fried rice with fresh green peas and greasy fried mushrooms and onions. It is not Tsunade’s hangover cure, but it will have to do.

The water shuts off and Jiraiya stumbles out in a gray samue set, towel hung over his shoulders to catch water from his bushy mane. 

He sinks into a chair at the kitchen table and puts his head down.

“I think I’m getting too old to keep up with you and Tsunade…”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Jiraiya—” he kept up with them fine. In fact, his hangover is entirely Jiraiya’s fault. If the oaf knew when to give up, he wouldn’t feel quite so ill. “You are younger than Tsunade and I.”

“Younger?” Jiraiya snorts. “You’re only two weeks older than me, you picky bastard.”

“Fifteen days older,” he says, absently.

_"Picky bastard."_

Jiraiya gets up from the table and reaches around him for the steaming kettle on the back burner, moving it to the hot plate next to the fridge. He takes down the old iron teapot from the top shelf—the one he can’t reach without a step stool when Jiraiya is not around—and wipes it out with a damp cloth.

“One teaspoon—”

“—for you, one teaspoon for me, and one teaspoon for the pot. I know, I know.”

Jiraiya finishes cleaning the teapot and measures the correct amount of tea leaves for the small tetsubin; Orochimaru turns off the gas burners and plates out the egg-fried rice. He sets the table and Jiraiya brings the tea, before turning away and hunting through the cupboards for the sugar.

“On your left, Jiraiya.”

“You changed it,” he accuses.

“Yes, I changed a great deal.”

“…” he opens another cupboard and spots the sugar. “It makes more sense to keep the sugar in this cupboard, anyhow.”

“…”

They eat in silence, drink tea in silence, and clean up in silence. Jiraiya glances at the clock on the wall. Nine hundred.

“I guess we should go see how the brats are getting on.” Jiraiya says, stretching. “Hopefully they haven’t burned down the apartment or stabbed anybody.”

He clicks his tongue. With Honōka, both options are not as unlikely as Jiraiya thinks. 

Orochimaru lets himself into Minato’s apartment and instinctively catches his student as she hurls herself at him. She’s wearing familiar round black goggles that are much too large for her petite face.

He surveys the living room. A boy with short and spiky brown hair and a blue marking on his right cheek sits on the couch, brown eyes squinting against the light.

“Mushi-kun,” he greets—like a Root agent sitting in Minato’s apartment is not the least bit unusual.

Mushi nods at him. “Orochi-san. Good morning.”

“I stole him.” Honōka proudly declares. “Sensei, can we keep him?”

He wants to say no—Mushi is Aburame Tatsuma of Anbu, who Danzō has been grooming for several years. His father, Aburame Shiken, died in the explosion set by Root operatives the day Kōmori kidnapped Honōka. That does not sound like mere coincidence to Orochimaru.

Jiraiya blinks several times, rapidly.

“Kid, just, _no._ You can’t go around kidnapping clan kids—especially not Aburame kids. Do you want to be devoured alive by rivers of insects?”

Honōka’s mouth puckers. She does not particularly like insects after becoming a temporary kikaichū host.

“And give him his goggles back—he needs them more than you.” Jiraiya scolds.

Honōka wiggles out of his arms, skipping back to the couch.

“Here, Ryōma-kun. They’re too big for me, anyway.”

Ryōma-kun…?

“I see.” He puts them back on. “Thank you.”

Orochimaru ignores the Root agent for the moment and steps out of his sandals. He passes the kitchen where Kushina and Kakashi are making breakfast. Minato sits at the table, eyes trained on the Aburame boy across the room. He raises an eyebrow and Minato mouths, ‘it’s a long story,’ at him.

“Has Inoichi attempted to contact you, Honōka?”

She begins shaking her head and stops, wincing.

“Nope.”

“I see. How are you today?”

“My eyes are fine, Sensei—I just can’t shake my head and everything is kind of bright and glowy.”

Glowy. Of course.

“That doesn’t sound ‘fine’ to me,” Jiraiya says.

Honōka shrugs. 

“Tsunade will look at your eyes later.” He tells her.

She scowls and crosses her arms. It’s not because she dislikes Tsunade—

“Tsunade-san is being a bad influence, Sensei.”

Jiraiya chokes.

“Drinking every night is bad! You didn’t even say goodnight to me, Sensei!”

…Perhaps he should warn Tsunade she has acquired his student’s ire. Or perhaps he’ll let her figure it out on her own and hope his student is crafty enough to prank Tsunade without being maimed in the process. 

Jiraiya struggles to hold in his laughter and fails. 

“I see.” He crosses his own arms and stares down at his cheeky little student. “And, while I was away, you saw fit to kidnap a Root agent. Did you at least remove his seal?” If she says 'duh', he will sit on her. 

Jiraiya tenses next to him. He doesn’t like there being a Root agent—former or otherwise—in the apartment with his student anymore than Orochimaru does.

“I defected, so it was, in fact, not a kidnapping.”

He glances at the boy who has not moved from his spot on the couch and continues staring blankly ahead.

“Sensei, Sensei! Ryōma-kun has lived before!”

“?!”

She bounces from foot to foot excitedly and then pauses—looking vaguely green—before resuming again. She’s determined to give him a headache as well, he thinks.

“Fifteen years ago, I lived in Tokyo.” The boy says. “I died and woke up here, in the body of Aburame Tatsuma.” 

Honōka tosses herself on the couch and throws an arm over her eyes, kicking her feet in the air.

“Is this true, Honōka?”

“He has memories, Sensei—of Tokyo, of _my_ school!”

Kakashi comes from the kitchen with three stacks of breakfast trays, glaring at the older boy. 

“And he knows all about that _Dragon Ball_ thing.”

The boy nods and sinks into the couch, head tilting back. 

“Aa.” He agrees. “I am shocked.”

Honōka sits up and pats his shoulder.

“You’re just a little disappointed, is all! The ending grows on you after a while, promise! I can tell you about the spin-off series, _Dragon Ball GT_ , if you like?”

“Spin-off series…?” The boy considers. “No. Not today. I am still coming to terms with the ending of _Dragon Ball Z_.”

Kakashi rolls his eyes.

“It’s just some dumb story…”

Honōka gasps.

“Kakashi, you take that back! It’s so much more than some ‘dumb story’! It’s a precious childhood memory—”

“Aa. Hours of my existence, wasted on that lackluster ending. Truly, what a waste.”

Honōka pauses and frowns at the boy.

“I bet you were in the drama club—you’re really dramatic.”

“Aa.”

Honōka and Kakashi sit on the floor with their trays, and the boy remains where he is. Honōka takes the third tray of food and sets it next to her, and pats the floor. Jiraiya shifts and walks into the kitchen, stooping to murmur something to Minato.

“Ryōma-kun, breakfast is ready. Come sit with us.”

Kakashi growls low, and Honōka elbows him.

'Ryōma' extracts himself from the couch and folds into seiza next to his student.

Ah. He understands now. The boy is in the broken but compliant stage of Danzō’s training. He joins Jiraiya in the kitchen.

“How did this boy come to Honōka’s attention?” he asks.

Minato doesn’t take his eyes off Honōka and Kakashi in the living room.

“We’re not sure. Honōka-chan woke up last night and practically threw herself off the balcony. Kakashi stopped her… but I knew she wasn’t going to back down.”

“Another dream then.” He says.

“Like the one she had before the snakes summoned her?” Jiraiya asks. “Weird.”

Minato bites his thumbnail until it bleeds—a habit Orochimaru hasn’t quite been able to break him from. 

“He doesn’t seem hostile… but…”

“He is likely responsible for Honōka’s kikaichū infestation.” Orochimaru finishes. That, and more, he thinks.

Kushina hums, eyes narrowing unhappily. 

“I feel kind of bad for him, dattebane…! He’s weird, yeah? Really, _really,_ really weird!”

Honōka looks up with an unimpressed tilt of her head, but neither boy notices. He glances at the tabletop. One of Jiraiya’s anti-eavesdropping seals. Interesting.

“He’s Anbu, and Root, and apparently reborn, yeah? But he’s… whatsit called? Inoichi would know the word—Minato, what’s the word I’m looking for?”

Orochimaru looks at the boy, mechanically eating his omurice as Honōka draws a smiley face on it with ketchup, and crosses his arms. He sighs.

“Disassociating is the word I believe you are looking for, Kushina.”


	93. the world is crazy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “In middle school, they banned me from the karate club, and then the jūdō club.” And she got suspended for three days on her first day of high school. Tomoe's father had been _furious._ Ojī-chan had laughed it off, though. He always thought it was funny when she did something ridiculous—like scaling the side of the school building to sneak in after the tardy bell. 

She tries to perk Ryōma up while they eat breakfast, but he’s gone radio silent on her.

His nexus is all twisted up, like a figure eight, and the loamy earth nature of his chakra is a little too dry—crumbling at the edges. She thinks that’s probably not a good sign. He eats in a trancelike state and she draws a swirly poop on the other side of his omurice. He doesn’t react and she pouts.

Kakashi elbows her again.

“Stop. You’re going to make him sick if you keep drowning his food in ketchup.”

“Such a thing will not make me ill—in fact, I am resistant to most conventional poisons and venoms. I also house three varieties of poisonous kikaichū, and one venomous variety.”

Ugh… bugs.

“Which is the venomous variety?” she asks—anything to keep him talking, thinking, _feeling._

He lifts his left hand, palm up. Sensei tenses. Everyone does. 

A large centipede crawls out of a small opening in his palm, an eerie fluorescent orange color. Her chopsticks creak. 

Oh. _Ohhh._ That’s terrifying.

Think snake, she tells herself. It’s just like a snake.

It slithers… no—just, _no._ That is _not_ slithering. Uwah! Too many legs…! Sensei!

She shivers and swallows. “It’s so… _crawly,”_ she whispers. 

Ryōma nods.

Honōka clears her throat and manages to speak with great effort. “It’s, um… very brightly colored.”

Ryōma frowns, and Kakashi snorts—but it comes out sounding like a whine.

“Honōka—it’s brown.”

“No, it’s clearly like, orange. Glowy orange.”

Ryōma flicks up his goggles and squints at his… pet. He nods once.

“You do need glasses.”

He flicks his goggles back down and finishes eating, letting the giant centipede crawl all over him while he does. It disappears down his collar.

Kakashi tugs on her sleeve and whispers, “What did he mean…?” 

She shrugs. She’s still staring where the centipede disappeared.

Sensei comes into the living space from the open kitchen and kneels across from Ryōma, who pushes his empty tray aside and rests his hands on his lap.

“You are formerly the Root agent known as Mushi, currently the Anbu agent known also as Mushi, and Aburame Tatsuma of the Aburame Clan. My student knows you as Ryōma. Which shall I call you?”

Ryōma opens his mouth and closes it. He’s confused. Sensei’s given him a choice in the matter, and he’s uncertain how he should proceed.

“I prefer… Ryōma. Last name, irrelevant.”

“Koide Ryōma,” she says. “His name was Koide Ryōma.”

 _“Is,”_ Ryōma corrects. “My name _is_ Koide Ryōma.”

Sensei regards Ryōma with narrowed eyes.

“Are you certain? My student has… an interesting relationship with her former self and current self.”

Ryōma frowns, the blue mark on his cheek twitching.

“I do not understand the question. I am, and will always be, Koide Ryōma.”

“And yet, for all the years you have been under Danzō’s tender ministrations, you have never revealed this side of yourself to him?”

Ryōma blanks for a moment, then starts thinking again—from the beginning. It’s a carefully edited process.

“…Danzō-sama was interested in Aburame Tatsuma. So I became him, to protect myself.”

“And Aburame Shiken? Who was he to Koide Ryōma? Who was he to Aburame Tatsuma?”

Ryōma’s mind turns and turns, and she suddenly realizes what Sensei is trying to do. She crawls over to him and pulls on his sleeve until he leans down so she can whisper in his ear.

“Sensei, he’s not like Tomoe.” There is no line between Koide Ryōma and Aburame Tatsuma; no angry, vengeful, spirit.

Sensei straightens and resumes grilling Ryōma.

“How did killing Aburame Shiken protect Koide Ryōma? How did it protect Aburame Tatsuma?”

She pulls on Sensei’s sleeve again and he gives her his, ‘not now, I’m busy,’ look. She scowls at him. He hasn’t shown her that look in a while.

She pinches him on the back of his arm and he disguises his flinch as a shift in weight. He thinks _not nice_ things and she flares her annoyance at him. Kakashi collects their trays and tiptoes around them to the kitchen. 

“Minato, Sensei and Honōka are arguing again.” Kakashi informs. _Do something about it_ , he silently pleads.

 _“Again??”_ Jiraiya yells. Sensei and Ryōma don’t react to the sudden shouting. “They’ve done this before?!” 

“Maa, sometimes.” 

“That’s killing intent—not arguing, kid!”

“Wow, I had no idea, Jiraiya-sama.” Kakashi sasses. 

“Is this a Monday thing?” Minato asks. “I feel like this a Monday thing.”

“I think it’s kind of cute, ya know? Scary-cute.”

“Cute?! Kushina, are you insane?”

Kushina and Kakashi growl at Jiraiya. Still no reaction from Sensei and Ryōma. She frowns.

“Since when did I become the normal one around here?!” Jiraiya laments.

“Don’t worry, Jiraiya-sensei. Spend enough time around Honōka-chan and you’ll start thinking the rest of the world is crazy instead.”

She turns around and glares at them, signing for them to be quiet.

“Why the hell can you even hear us?” Jiraiya questions her. 

He picks up a paper tag and shows it to her, jabbing the center character with his finger. It says ‘conversation’, with a bunch of squiggles and half radicals, followed by a square with nine shaku written on each side. ‘Silence’ is then repeated four times on each corner.

“Your handwriting is ugly.” She tells him.

He gasps and dramatically clutches the seal to his chest. She sticks her tongue out at him. Sensei puts a hand on her head and turns her back around.

“Interpret. He is not responding.”

She looks at his lower dantian, chakra turning slowly, almost restfully. It’s too regulated, though—each revolution is the same as the last. Sleep is more rhythmic, with a peak on the seventh breath. His emotional tone falls flat, so she parses out the frequency of his sensory-field instead. It’s shaky. Even if his mind isn’t registering any emotions, his body is—and it's feeling anxious. 

“Ryōma-kun, we’re not mad at you,”

“I am,” Kakashi says. “This guy had something to do with the explosion at the border, Honōka.”

She puts her hand behind her back and signs her agreement. She’s not _stupid_. She then crawls on her hands and knees and stops in front of Ryōma. Kakashi growls.

“Ryōma-kun?” she pokes his knee. 

He tenses—like he’s expecting her to strike him. 

“I stabbed my father three times.” She tells him. “I didn’t kill him—but I wanted to.”

Something that tastes like shock brews in Ryōma’s mind.

“When I was Tomoe, I broke a classmate’s jaw for flipping my skirt. I guess there were complications from the injury, and he almost died. Tomoe felt bad about it, but I still think he shouldn’t have flipped her skirt.”

“…Were you a Yankī?”

“What are you saying, Ryōma-kun?! I was a true Yamato Nadeshiko!” She’s lying, but he doesn’t know that.

“I find that hard to believe. You are quite… violent.” Ryōma says. “In fact, you terrify me.”

“In middle school, they banned me from the karate club, and then the jūdō club.” And she got suspended for three days on her first day of high school. Tomoe's father had been _furious_. Ojī-chan laughed it off, though. He always thought it was funny when she did something ridiculous—like scaling the side of the school building to sneak in after the tardy bell. 

“I see. You were born ready for this world.”

Honōka stiffens, and Sensei considers the statement, thoughtfully.

“And you, Ryōma-kun? Were you born 'ready' for this world?” Sensei asks.

“…” 

Ryōma looks at his hands, and she sees the bright white scars from his kikaichū repeatedly making openings in his skin. It gives her goosebumps, but she’s morbidly curious. She reaches out and runs her thumb over the hollow scars. She hopes there are no bugs waiting to bite her.

“Some days, this all feels like a dream—one I will wake from.” Ryōma says. “Other days, I wonder if I am crazy, and if this is the only reality I have ever known—if my life before was the dream… And I find, when I face difficulties, it is easier to function while pretending this world is the dream. Inevitably, I wake, and it becomes my reality once more.” 

No one speaks, and Ryōma continues.

“Sometimes, I think I want to die—but then I remember true death, and this life is again the dream. The cycle repeats. I do not want to die, I think.”

“Danzō ordered you to kill Aburame Shiken.” Sensei says. Sensei thinks he did it under the influence of his ‘dream’ state. Honōka thinks it’s not that simple, and wishes Sensei wouldn’t keep pushing for Ryōma to answer the question.

“Aa. I killed my father.”

Remorse—a guilt so sharp it _cuts_ deep, and sorrow bleeds from a wound that might never heal. Honōka squeezes his hand, and the emotions bubble over.

“I never knew my father before. It was just my mother and I. It was strange, having what I always wanted, but never had…!” Ryōma’s steady breaths are becoming irregular. “I think he realized what was happening when he saw me that day. Why didn’t he run? Tell me, why didn’t he _run?”_

“We all have someone we would protect at any cost.” She tells him. “Your father must have loved you very much, Ryōma-kun.” She thinks Aburame Shiken knew enough to fear for his son—knew enough to begin connecting the dots on all the strange clan tragedies. Knew that if he didn't die when he did, it would have been his son instead.

Ryōma bows his head to hide the tears escaping from his goggles, and she rubs her fingers through his cropped hair.

“How could he have? I’m not even real…!”

“You feel real to me, Ryōma-kun, and these feeling you’re having now tell me you were real to your father, too.”

Ryōma lets out a choked sob and curls in on himself, hiding his face in his knees. She rubs his back.

“It’s okay to cry when it hurts, Ryōma-kun. Just let it all out.”

Kushina sniffles behind them and Minato is there to comfort her as she loudly blows her nose between subdued sobs. Then Kakashi suddenly storms off and locks himself in the office.

She continues rubbing Ryōma’s back. She can barely deal with one person having an emotional breakdown—and that person is usually her! Three is three too many!

“I’m feeling really uncomfortable right now.” Jiraiya says to no one in particular. She makes a sound of agreement.


	94. the perfect shinobi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The anguished sob breaks off midway, turning into a distinctly canine whine. Jiraiya rises from his place on the floor and bulldozes his way through the messy office. He doesn’t fucking care about getting stabbed! Tsunade beat him half to death for peeping, for fucks sake! Kakashi can _try_ to beat that!

Between Kushina blubbering in the kitchen, Kakashi sulking in the office, and Ryōma the transmigrating former Root agent bawling on his student’s lap in the living room; Orochimaru thinks the atmosphere in Minato’s apartment might be getting a tad overwhelming for Honōka. 

He leans forward and finds that his student is also crying. He pats her head. 

She sniffles, “Sensei, Inoichi-san is looking for you.”

Wonderful, right on time.

“Ryōma-kun, how would you like to have your brain picked for evidence of Danzō’s betrayal?”

His student frowns at him, but the boy sits up and takes his goggles off, cleaning them on his sleeve. He scrubs his face with the other sleeve and dons the goggles again.

“Please allow me to contribute, Orochimaru-san.”

“Very well. Come along, Ryōma-kun. Jiraiya, watch the children while I am gone.”

“What—I thought I was going with you?”

“Change of plans. Do not let Honōka and Kakashi fight.”

“Wait, what? _Why??_ Are you serious right now?”

Honōka dries her eyes and points to her mouth, reverting to her natural smile in all its gummy glory. A few teeth have grown in.

“Kakashi knocked out this toof, and this one, and this one too.” She lisps. “I've knocked out four of his teef, so far, so I’m winning.”

“Sage have mercy, she’s a mini Tsunade.”

Kushina laughs in the middle of blowing her nose, and it comes out sounding like a duck honking. She laughs harder, tears streaming.

Minato lets out an exaggerated sigh. “Tsunade-san has already refused to take on their dental work. Orochimaru-sensei has to fix all their cracked teeth and jaw fractures himself.”

Jiraiya looks alarmed. “These kids won’t have ten brain cells to share by the time they’re _ten!”_

Orochimaru leaves with the Root kid and he awkwardly sits at the table while Minato cleans up from breakfast and Kushina takes a nap in the bedroom. 

Kushina’ll be right as rain in Amegakure in an hour. She’s a resilient kid. She bounces back, smiling twice as bright—and swinging three times as hard. He should know, he’s been on the receiving end of her fox-fueled punches on more than one occasion.

Orochi’s kid is doing some kind of moving meditation, so she’s probably fine too.

Kakashi is the one that worries him most. He’s still holed up in the office. In the dark.

“Minato, don’t you think you should check on Kakashi?”

Minato hums.

“Honōka-chan usually signals when it’s okay to approach him.”

Really, Minato? He doesn’t care if she’s an Empath, or whatever—you don’t leave a kid alone with an arsenal of assorted sharp and stabby things in a dark room. He stands up.

Orochi’s kid sizes him up and makes a face at him. He’s not sure what the face means. She’s looking at him, he thinks, but also through him.

She suddenly smiles, and her teeth are like little baby monster teeth again (he knew they weren’t natural!) and says, “Don’t get stabbed!”—cheerfully.

Right. He is _not_ having second thoughts about approaching a seven-year-old kid. 

Jiraiya tries the office door, unsurprised to find it locked. No matter—he’s a shinobi—locked doors mean squat to him. He picks the lock with shape manipulation and chakra, a trick he figured out when he was still a brat.

He lets himself into the office and reaches for the light switch. A kunai thunks into the wall next to his extended hands and Kakashi growls. Yikes.

“Okaaay,” he says. “No lights, then.” 

He shuts the door behind him.

Not a big deal. He can see just as well in the dark as he can in the light—he sees color and everything, thanks to his superior toad vision—but only when he’s molding senjutsu chakra.

He stands perfectly still for a long moment, gathering natural energy to blend with his own chakra. He’s not sitting blind in a room with a Hatake prodigy on a hairpin trigger. He might actually get stabbed.

When his Sage Mode stabilizes, he sees Kakashi wedged between a bookshelf with buckling shelves and a crate full of sealing supplies. 

Why does the kid gotta back himself into a corner, literally? It’s making it harder for Jiraiya to approach him.

“Go away.” Kakashi growls.

He clears his throat. “I’m just gonna sit right here.”

“…”

Jiraiya sits.

“…”

This is going great, he thinks. He hasn’t even been stabbed!

“…”

Yet.

“…he should have let them die.”

Ah, shit. Let who die? He doesn’t know Kakashi well enough to be having this kind of conversation with him! He doesn’t even know where the kid is leading with that—

Wait—he _does_ know. Jeez! It’s so freaking obvious; he should have realized it the moment the kid stormed off.

“Kid, Sakumo-san wasn’t that kind of guy. He never ‘let’ anybody die on a mission.”

Kakashi shifts, hugging his knees to his chest.

“It used to be; if you were assigned on a mission with Sakumo-san, you could breathe a sigh of relief. No matter how difficult the mission was, you could trust that Sakumo-san would get everyone home in one piece.”

Jiraiya thinks half the village was in love with Sakumo, back in the day. Even Orochimaru had a crush on him when they were teenagers—it was so embarrassing! The bastard walked into a trap on purpose once, just so Sakumo would carry him back. The snaky bastard wasn’t even shy about it!

…He might have done it to make Kōmori jealous, though. He seems to recall walking in on Orochi and Kōmori with their tongues down each other’s throats shortly after that incident.

Jiraiya shakes his head—Kakashi is way too young for the nitty-gritty details of torrid love stories.

“Used to be…?” Kakashi snorts. “It doesn’t matter what it used to be. They turned on him the moment he broke the rules and stopped being the perfect shinobi.”

Jiraiya’s broken the ‘shinobi rules’ a million times in his career—and he’s never once been accused of dishonoring their way of life the way Sakumo was. 

He abandoned the village for three years to train brats from an enemy state, and all he got was a letter telling him to keep an ear out for new information—and later a letter telling him his time was up and to get back on the job. 

What happened to Sakumo was wrong. Unnatural. It didn’t make any sense to him—until he learned about Danzō. 

Jiraiya can’t wait to throttle the old bastard.

“He was strong—he could have left them and completed the mission by himself! He should have just let them die!”

“Kakashi, your father would never abandon his friends—”

“They were **_not_** his friends!”

“Kid, _everyone_ was friends with your old man. It didn’t matter if they talked to him every day, once, or not at all. _Everyone_ in this village was an important friend to Sakumo-san. You probably already know enemies and allies alike call your old man the White Fang of the Leaf, yeah? But I wonder if you ever heard anyone call him the 'tail-wagger'? Or if you knew the Second Hokage called him 'Puppy' when he was a boy?”

It’s so ridiculous, and true, that Kakashi is knocked a full step back from his anger. 

“If his choice had instead been saving his comrades at the expense of his own life, he would have made that decision, Kakashi.” No matter how unfair it would have been to his child at home. 

Hatake Sakumo was an amazing shinobi, and a good person—but he wasn’t perfect. He died believing the village would look after his son in his stead. It's sad, how poorly his faith in the village played out.

Jiraiya wonders if there really is an afterlife, and if Sakumo’s been watching his son from the beyond this entire time. If there is, and he has been watching, Danzō better look out. Sakumo’s going to tear him a new one when he gets his ghostly hands on him.

Kakashi sniffs—no, he _sniffles._ Oh boy.

“After everything Otō-san went through… was I not worth living _one more day_ for?”

“Kid, listen—”

“Couldn’t he have stayed with me, for _just a bit longer?!”_

The anguished sob breaks off midway, turning into a distinctly canine whine. Jiraiya rises from his place on the floor and bulldozes his way through the messy office. He doesn’t fucking care about getting stabbed! Tsunade beat him half to death for peeping, for fucks sake! Kakashi can _try_ to beat that!

“… _Why_ wasn't he there to watch me graduate from the Academy and see me off on my first mission?” Kakashi chokes out, voice thick with tears. “… _Why_ isn’t he here now, to say, ‘welcome home,’…?”

He pushes the crate out of the way and plonks down next to Kakashi. 

“I wish I knew, kid.”


	95. does not exist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Where are you taking Aburame Tatsuma?”
> 
> Orochimaru scoffs. He hasn’t worked with this Anbu agent before, has only seen him from afar—which was not luck, or mere coincidence.
> 
> “Sarutobi Kazuma, take off that mask.”

Orochimaru escorts Ryōma to the Intelligence Division, where he knows Inoichi and the head of the Analysis Team, Dokuraku Shiemi, are waiting. He expects to meet resistance on the way—Danzō _must_ realize he is preparing evidence against him by now, and is likely preparing his own counterevidence.

But it is not Root agents who intercept them on their way, but a lone Anbu agent. They draw their blade in the middle of the deserted street and Orochimaru tsks. Ryōma frowns but does not show any signs of readying himself for combat.

“Where are you taking Aburame Tatsuma?”

Orochimaru scoffs. He hasn’t worked with this Anbu agent before, has only seen him from afar—which was not luck, or mere coincidence.

“Sarutobi Kazuma, take off that mask.”

“…”

“I highly doubt you have received orders to detain me, Kazuma-kun.”

The boy hesitates. He is already taller than his father; one day he may strike quite the imposing figure. But, for now, he is a gangly teenager with hunched shoulders and ears that stick off the side of his mask.

“I’m not letting you take him away, Orochimaru-san.”

He used to babysit this brat with Tsunade and Jiraiya when Sarutobi-sensei needed a break from his hair pulling and beard yanking. Orochimaru’s scalp prickles at the memory. Kazuma was unexpectedly nimble, even as a baby. He let his guard down once, and that was enough for him to swear off babysitting.

“I am not taking him ‘away’, Kazuma-kun. We are both heading to the Intelligence Division. You are welcome to join us, if you like.”

“…!” 

His grip on the hilt tightens. Now how on _earth_ did he interpret that as a threat?

“Tatsuma’s not going anywhere near T&I!”

Ryōma frowns again, and Orochimaru raises an eyebrow at him. He gestures for him to go ahead. The boys appear similar in age—perhaps they were classmates at the Academy.

“Tatsuma, come on, man. I don’t know what’s gotten into you—or what you’ve gotten involved in—just, come with me. My fa—the Hokage will fix this, I promise.”

Ryōma shakes his head.

“I do not believe Sandaime-sama can fix this situation, Kazuma.”

Kazuma’s shoulders drop and he sheaths his blade. His hand hesitates over his mask before he pulls it off, secreting it away.

The widow’s peak and pushed back hair reminds Orochimaru of Sarutobi-sensei, when he was a much younger man. He’s inherited Biwako’s stern expressions, though, but has not yet found his confidence.

The boy glances at him, and there is fear in his tight-lipped expression, but also determination.

“I’m coming with you. I don’t trust _him_ —” he jerks his thumb at Orochimaru, “not to throw you to the wolves at T&I.”

Orochimaru rolls his eyes. Kazuma is frightened by him—but Anbu has given him a reckless sort of verve. 

The shy boy he remembers is all but gone, and he wonders what changes he will see in Honōka when she reaches this age. Of course, she lived her teenage years once already—he hopes that means she won’t be too much trouble. 

Inoichi greets them outside the Intelligence Division, and skeptically eyes the younger boys.

“Orochimaru-sama. You brought… guests?”

“This is Aburame Tatsuma, a former Root agent. He shares some very startling similarities with my student. Please call him Ryōma.”

Inoichi’s eyes widen. _“Oh.”_

“Will that be an issue, Inoichi-kun?”

“Um, no—Shiemi-san’s technique will focus on triggering and recording specific memories. Unless she triggers a memory from… before…?”

He thought that would be the case. There should be nothing to worry about—provided they are selective and trigger only memories involving Danzō.

Kazuma’s dark brows shoot up and his jaw drops.

“Tatsuma, you’re here to inform on—on whoever it is you’ve been working for? That’s—” Kazuma slaps Ryōma on the back and the lankier boy stumbles. “That’s awesome, man!”

“Aa. It is very awesome.”

Kazuma pats Ryōma on the back a few more times before his excited expression reverts to one of caution. Kazuma side-eyes him.

“I… I don’t understand. My fa—the Hokage told me to—he told me to watch out for you, Orochimaru-san.”

“Tell me, Kazuma-kun, have you been in contact with your father this week?”

“…Yes?”

Orochimaru smiles and Kazuma gulps. His opening move has appeared.

“Come, sit with us, Kazuma-kun. There is something I would like to tell you—and many things I would like to show you.”

Kazuma does not take the news of Konoha’s (and therefore his father’s) severely compromised position well.

“You’re lying…!”

The evidence is laid before them—and he sings his praises loud and clear for his student to hear. Ryōma is— _was_ —Danzō’s new favorite. Stealing him was an _excellent_ move on Honōka’s part.

As Kakashi has said before, Honōka is ‘stupidly lucky’, which he thinks is perhaps thanks to her connection with Benzaiten—one of the Seven Lucky Gods.

“I assure you, Kazuma-kun, this is the most honest I have ever been in my entire life.”

Inoichi holds his face in his hands while Dokuraku Shiemi gently squeezes his shoulders. The rather elegantly dressed young woman hides her shock better than most.

Morino Michi from Torture and Interrogation leans against the back wall, arms folded as he scowls at the now blank projector. The head of T&I has several reasons to be angry—and rightfully so. Danzō and his organization undermines the authority of not only the Hokage and Anbu, but also that of the Intelligence Division and T&I. 

Despite being called Torture and Interrogation, they do have standards—standards every shinobi village has agreed upon. It’s the reason they have a prison system, and a bartering system for prisoners of war. What Danzō has done spits in the face of those standards—and has evidently caused several conflicts that otherwise could have been avoided. 

Including the Third Shinobi World War.

“Tatsuma…! Couldn’t you have warned me, somehow?”

Ryōma shakes his head.

“I could say nothing until Orochimaru-san’s student removed the Cursed Tongue Eradication Seal.”

Verifying the removal of the Root seal was admittedly odd in Ryōma’s case, as the glass sheltered platform and rows of seats were an alien setting that simply does not exist in _this_ world—and his student cajoling the boy to defect with promises of details on a story called _Dragon Ball_ was odd as well.

He suspects Ryōma’s defection had less to do with the details Honōka could provide, and more the relief on his face when she said ‘Tokyo’.

Kazuma’s back meets the wall behind him, and he slowly sinks down. He pushes back his already slicked down hair.

“The Hokage… Otō-san would hate all of this, if he knew. Fuck…! I should have noticed sooner! Why didn’t I notice sooner?!”

Suggestive genjutsu, he assumes.

“Indeed, Kazuma-kun. Sarutobi-sensei would be horrified if he realized what was happening right under his nose—and would surely put an end to Danzō’s machinations.”

Kazuma grinds his jaw and glares up at him.

“You’re leading somewhere with that, aren’t you, Orochimaru-san?”

He nods.

“Sarutobi-sensei is most likely under the influence of a Sharingan dōjutsu called Kotoamatsukami. It changes the way one perceives their personal reality and cannot be dispelled by any means. The only way to break the illusion is to remove the ‘corrupted’ memories.”

Kazuma grimaces. “That’s—remove them? Remove Otō-san’s memories? How? We don’t even know which memories are corrupted.”

He taps his temple. “Kotoamatsukami was used on me sometime in the last… fifteen years. My student was able to use her own dōjutsu to separate the unaffected memories from the corrupted memories.”

“Then…!”

“Yes, Danzō’s manipulations can be reversed, to a certain extent.” 

Honōka can try her best, but the final result will still be chunks of missing memories that puzzle the mind at the oddest times. He’s certain he got into a major argument with Sensei on his sixteenth birthday, but cannot remember it in the least. Jiraiya and Tsunade talked him through it last night, but it left him more confused than anything else. Why on earth would he have argued for the Hokage title at sixteen? Danzō—that’s why.

“I expected Danzō to prevent my student and I from approaching Sarutobi-sensei upon our return to Konoha, and resigned myself to inciting civil unrest during our efforts to remove Danzō. There’s simply no way around it if we cannot convince Sensei and Danzō’s supporters of his criminal enterprises.”

“However, with your help, Kazuma-kun, there is a way to prevent a civil war from happening.”

“By getting you and your student close enough to break that Kotoamatsukami thing…?”

Orochimaru nods. 

Kazuma obsessively combs back his hair. 

“That… that might be harder than you think, Orochimaru-san. Otō-san is… well, he told me you might plan to assassinate him, soon. I don’t think he’ll react very calmly if you suddenly approach him.”

That would be a problem—so he’ll just have to approach him as someone else.

“My student has a very interesting impersonation technique. I’m sure she would love to tell you all about it, Kazuma-kun.”

Kazuma gulps. 


	96. follies of the previous generations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hey, they didn’t start fighting until Orochi woke them up—and my babysitting duties ended the moment he got back. Not my fault he thought their little reenactment was cute.”

The White-haired Jiji eventually coaxes Kakashi out of the office, and she and Minato are waiting for them with the kotatsu primed and ready.

Minato made tea for everyone (crying is very dehydrating) and she peeled an orange for Kakashi, picking off all the stringy bits. He won’t eat it otherwise. She smiles and shows him the meticulously cleaned orange.

“Look, Kakashi! I made it pretty this time!”

He snorts, but it’s not a mean sort, and sits next to her, stretching his legs out under the warm kotatsu. She offers him a tissue, and he takes it, pulling his mask down to blow his nose.

Kakashi doesn’t replace his mask, just takes the orange from her, plucks off a few more stringy things, and splits it in half.

“You can have half.”

Orochimaru returns to Minato’s apartment to rally Jiraiya and his young students—teammates, in this case.

He finds Jiraiya passed out under the kotatsu, feet sticking out one end, his face and shoulders from the other. Jiraiya’s unconsciously pinched expression comes from the small foot stuck to his face. The futon attached to the short table covers the rest of his student.

Kakashi’s head of staticky silver hair pokes out from the other side, and he blinks tear-swollen eyes up at Orochimaru, his ever present mask rolled down his neck.

“Did you two fight?”

He shakes his head.

Orochimaru nods. Good.

“Where are Minato and Kushina?”

Kakashi yawns and rubs his eyes.

“Kushina-nē is on gate duty. Minato went with her. He left a Hiraishin seal on the kitchen floor—pulse chakra through it and he’ll come back.”

Kakashi pauses, cheek twitching. He has his father’s wide mouth and full bottom lip, but the rounded peak of his upper lip is all his mother’s. It softens his frown.

Kakashi opens his mouth to speak, but says nothing.

“Yes?”

“…” he reaches for his mask, rubbing the material between his thumb and index finger. “Were you Otō-san’s friend?”

Orochimaru narrows his eyes at Jiraiya’s sleeping form. If he told young Kakashi about his teenage crush, he’s going to _crush_ his former teammate’s testicles.

“Yes… I believe Hatake Sakumo would have considered me so.” Despite their infrequent contact after the second war. “Sakumo-san considered most people his friend.”

“That’s what Jiraiya-sama said.”

He hopes that is _all_ Jiraiya said.

“Should… should I be more like Otō-san?”

He scoffs on reflex. Kakashi tugs on his mask, likely debating pulling the mask up to save face, and Orochimaru considers what to say to save the conversation.

“You do not have to be like _either_ of your parents, Kakashi. You are not as… sociable as your father, or as—loud—” and aggressive, “as your mother. You are your own person.”

Kakashi turns his words over and nods. He pulls his mask up.

“It’s okay that I’m not loud or sociable.” He quietly affirms. “I don’t have to be nice and make friends with everyone to be an excellent shinobi.”

Orochimaru turns away and swallows, then heads into the kitchen. He doesn’t immediately call for Minato—he needs a moment to compose himself.

He thinks he should be encouraging Kakashi to make friends—if only to have a larger selection of allies to choose from in the future. But… when he was Kakashi’s age, being nice and making friends were the two activities he struggled with most.

Being friendly and meeting new people is _still_ tiring.

A large hand claps him on the shoulder, and he almost stabs Jiraiya with a kunai. The oaf chuckles.

“You know, of your two students—Minato doesn’t count, he’s mine—I thought the little snake was most similar to you. I was wrong though—it’s definitely Kakashi.”

He scoffs, again. Kakashi may not be as loud and aggressive as his mother, but his deadpan humor and occasional bouts of sass—his quick wit—that’s all Hatake Yaeba. Kakashi takes after his mother more than he knows.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Jiraiya.”

“It’s not a bad thing when your students take after you in some ways and differs in other ways.”

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath in.

“You sound more and more like Sensei, Jiraiya.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It’s not.”

He’d rather not see Jiraiya become a copy of their sensei some day, or Kakashi become a copy of himself. There are greater heights to aspire for, than the peaks surmounted by the previous generation.

“What are you thinking about, Orochimaru?”

“The follies of the previous generations.”

Jiraiya snorts. “You’re worried about Kakashi? I’d be more concerned about Honōka than Kakashi. She’s not playing the same game as the rest of us.”

He frowns.

“I’m not playing,” his student suddenly says, having shuffled into the kitchen while they were talking. “I’m winning.”

She opens the fridge and takes out the milk, checking the expiration date before drinking straight from the carton.

“Honōka, it is very impolite—” rude, “to drink from the container.”

“…”

She continues drinking, chugging the milk.

“I’m concerned.” Jiraiya says.

Honōka finishes the entire carton of milk and crushes it flat, tossing it into the burnable trash bin. She wipes her mouth and burps.

Orochimaru touches two fingers to his temple. Jiraiya chuckles.

“I bet you wish she took more after you now, eh?”

“I could not care less about her manners—if only she behaved in public.”

“This isn’t public, Sensei.”

“Were your manners at the mess hall not public?”

“That was border patrol—” Honōka shrugs. “Border patrol doesn't count.”

Jiraiya laughs louder.

“Sensei,” she says, smiling sweetly. “Should I be more like you?”

On one hand, he’s flattered; she must have heard his conversation with Kakashi earlier, and somehow he’s become the Sakumo of this scenario. On the other hand, Jiraiya is grinning his stupid toad-faced grin. He’s in on it—Orochimaru _knows_ he is. They’re ganging up on him, trying to fluster him. And he does _not_ get flustered over silly pranks. 

He kneels down, rests his hand on his student’s shoulder, and very solemnly regards her. 

“I think you should act less like Jiraiya.”

His student scowls at Jiraiya.

“You gave it away, Jiji—you’re no good at this!”

“Jiraiya is hardly a worthy role model, Honōka. You should consider Minato instead.”

His student wrinkles her nose.

“What about Tsunade-san?”

Gods, no!

“No!” Jiraiya quickly says. “Anyone but Tsunade-hime, kid!”

Orochimaru nods and Honōka pouts.

“Fine. Madara is my new role model. He writes terrible poetry, though. Prepare to suffer.”

Jiraiya flashes him a horrified look. Their plans have backfired on them both, it seems. Honōka deviously rubs her hands together and grins.

“Kakashi! We’re going to the Valley of the End to do battle!”

“Now…? Can I refuse?”

“Ooh! You’re definitely Hashirama—refusing to fight your dear friend, even when all other forms of communication have failed. Fight me, rival! We’ll see who is truly worthy of the title ‘God of Shinobi’!”

Kakashi’s eyes widen and he slowly edges away—he’s very familiar with her crazy-eyed look. Honōka lets out a war cry and launches herself at him. They go tumbling across the floor. 

“Should we stop them?” Jiraiya asks.

Honōka picks up a zabuton and begins swinging it at Kakashi. “Feel the wrath of my Gunbai!” she cackles.

Orochimaru massages his temples, again. “It is best to let her work it out of her system.”

Minato feels one of his Hiraishin seals being triggered and leans down to give Kushina a peck on the lips while no one is watching. 

“Gotta go!” he whispers. “I’ll bring you salt ramen for supper later, okay? And if you need anything, well, you have my Hiraishin kunai.” Kushina’s strong—she probably won’t need him.

She smiles up at him, eyes crinkling. She’s so beautiful when she smiles.

“Get,” she shoos him. “Go see what they want ya for, ‘ttebane.”

He backs one step away and teleports with the Hiraishin—and is immediately taken out by a lumpy zabuton whistling through the air at high speed. He lands on his back in the kitchen, cotton stuffing exploding all around him.

The apartment is dead silent. A chair squeaks as Jiraiya-sensei leans over him without getting up, checking to see if he’s alright. 

“Sorry, Minato!” Honōka says. “I got a little carried away with my Gunbai.”

Gunbai…? The zabuton?

He slowly sits up, rubbing his jaw. Sitting cushion or Gunbai aside, that felt like being sucker punched. A little higher and she would have broken his nose—a little lower and it would have been a throat shot.

“Who… who were you planning on hitting with that, Honōka-chan?”

She points at Kakashi, who’s holding another mangled zabuton. He guiltily hides the destroyed cushion behind his back. 

Minato blanches. 

His living room is a disaster zone! They flipped the kotatsu! _Why?_ The electric heater unit better not be broken! They also flipped the couch and are using the cushions as a flimsy barricade. 

And little footprints dot the walls and ceiling. He moans. 

“You guys…! My damage deposit!”

Kakashi points to Honōka. “She started it.”

“You weren’t getting your damage deposit back anyway, Minato.” Honōka points out. “You scratched up the walls with your secret-friendship-club seal.”

“It’s called the imperceptible barrier seal… and I was going to plaster and paint over it before I move…!”

She shrugs. “You can plaster and paint over this too!”

He scrubs his face.

“What even started this?” He asks. 

“We're reenacting Hashirama’s and Madara’s battle at the Valley of the End.” Honōka chirps.

Kakashi disagrees, shaking his head furiously.

“She attacked me, Minato, unprovoked.”

“Kakashi was pretending to be Hashirama-sama, and I was pretending to be Madara-sama.”

“Playing pretend is for _babies,_ Honōka!” Kakashi hisses.

“Kakashi isn’t very good at it—Hashirama-sama is supposed to win, but he is clearly losing.”

Kakashi uses the body flicker technique and whacks Honōka over the back with the abused zabuton before she can guard. Stuffing explodes across the apartment, again.

“Who’s losing now, huh?!”

Honōka giggles and falls over dramatically.

“Ah, to be struck down by my brother in all but blood—how did I not see mine own demise?”

He forces himself to stand, then collapses into the remaining kitchen chair. He puts his head down on the tabletop. Orochimaru-sensei pats his head once, and then Jiraiya-sensei roughs up his hair some more.

“Jiraiya-sensei!” he complains. “I thought you were supposed to keep them from fighting?”

“Hey, they didn’t start fighting until Orochi woke them up—and my babysitting duties ended the moment he got back. Not my fault he thought their little reenactment was cute.”


	97. “Danger is the possibility of suffering harm or injury,”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Honōka scowls at them. “I do _not_ need a handler!”
> 
> “Genma once walked in on her practicing a water breathing technique in her kitchen sink.” He says. Genma thought she was trying to drown herself.

Minato yells at Jiji and makes them clean up their mess. Jiji pouts but helps them move the furniture back in place and even fixes the worst dents and dings with some quick drying plaster Minato keeps under the kitchen sink. Sensei does not help them. Meanie.

When they finish, Sensei stands up.

“There is a meeting in Akimichi-chō at eighteen hundred. The usual attendees will be present, and several others as well. Please arrive on time and in acceptable repair.”

He aims that last part at her and Kakashi, who are sweaty and have bits of cotton stuffing in their hair.

“I suggest arriving before _six o’clock_ , Honōka.” Sensei stresses. “Find a reason for you and Kakashi to be in Akimichi-chō.”

“Yes, Sensei.”

“The meeting will be at Torifu-san’s home,” he says with a hint of warning. “Do not be surprised if his son and his daughter-in-law show up unannounced.”

Honōka nods. Torifu’s been trying to wheedle a promise from her since she found out about Shinku—to meet with her sister and extended family. He’s been unsuccessful so far—and is getting impatient with all her dodging and diverting.

“Tsunade will meet Jiraiya and I at the Bush Clover at seventeen fifty hours. Minato, you may wish to pick up Kushina’s supper from an Akimichi vendor this evening.”

Minato nods. “Sounds like a plan.”

She searches for Torifu’s signature, curious if she would recognize her sister’s signature at a glance. She doesn’t.

“Ryōma-kun is with Torifu-san. Are they at Torifu-san’s home already?”

“Yes.” Sensei says. “Seeing as you have no trouble locating Torifu-san, there is no excuse for getting lost or turning up late.”

Kakashi elbows her when her eyes wander. She rubs her arm and glares.

“Don’t worry, Sensei.” Kakashi says. “I’ll make sure she shows up on time.”

Jiji hums.

“Orochimaru, do the kids _have_ to go to the meeting?”

Ugh! It’s Minato all over again, Honōka thinks.

“Unfortunately, yes. Honōka’s ability to remove the influence of Kotoamatsukami is integral to the plan.”

Jiraiya scowls. “I wasn’t aware there was a plan already. I thought that’s what the meeting was for—discussing a plan.”

Sensei rolls his eyes.

“Very well—Honōka’s abilities are necessary for the plan I will propose at tonight’s meeting.”

Jiraiya groans and scrubs his face. She jabs him in the back of the knee and he yelps.

“Sensei would never ask me to put my life in danger for something he thought I couldn’t do.”

“I hate to tell you, kid, but you and your sensei have a very weak definition of what danger is.”

“Danger is the possibility of suffering harm or injury,” she cheekily responds. 

He shakes his head at her. “Weak, kid, weak.”

She frowns. That was literally the dictionary definition?

Sensei chuckles and pats her on the back, steering her and Kakashi towards the apartment door.

“Stick together and do not let any suspicious persons come within two hundred meters of you.” 

He opens the door for them and they obediently move to the outside hallway. 

“Sensei, are you shooing us away?” she asks, puffing up her cheeks.

“Yes.” Sensei slams the door in their faces.

She deflates, blowing out a mouthful of sad little bubbles.

“Darn, I almost had him!”

They head back to the genin apartments to clean up, and Honōka puts on her nicest black turtleneck and generic gray shinobi pants. Her wire-mesh armor chaffs her armpits, so she forgoes it. Like she expected, she's already outgrown it.

She lets herself into Kakashi’s apartment.

“Same outfit!” she says, and swipes the towel off his shoulders to dry her hair, again. Water just rolls off Kakashi’s hair—he doesn’t even need the towel anymore—and her hair is still wet, despite her best efforts to dry it. It can stay damp for _hours_ when it's long. 

He grunts at her and goes back to clipping his nails. He’s a compulsive nail clipper—which makes sense. Long nails get damaged more easily and can be a hazard—and Kakashi’s nails grow very fast.

“We should go hang out with Rin and Obito and Guy.” They’re at Uchiha-ku. She wants to see them.

“No.”

“But, Kakashi…! We haven’t seen them in forever and Obito is lonely!”

Kakashi shoots her a look.

“We saw them three days ago, Honōka—and how can Obito be lonely if he’s hanging out with Rin and Guy?”

“He’s lonely for us.”

Kakashi rolls his eyes and resumes clipping his nails.

“No.”

“When this is all over?” she begs.

“…” Kakashi sighs. “I guess.”

She plops down next to him and leans into his shoulder.

“I can’t wait.”

He wrangles Honōka to Akimichi-chō easily enough—it’s getting her to Torifu’s place on time that's the real challenge, because the moment she steps foot into the district her stomach rumbles.

Kakashi grabs her hand and tugs her away from another vendor.

“But, Kakashi! Takoyaki!”

“There’ll be food at Torifu-san’s place, Honōka.” It’s an Akimichi home—of course there will be food, and lots of it. Honōka knows this.

“But will there be takoyaki?”

“You can get takoyaki after.”

She gazes back longingly at the takoyaki stand and waves. “I’ll be back for you, delicious octopus snack!”

He rolls his eyes. She’s diverting. She wants to be late so she can avoid running into her sister before the meeting.

“Sensei will be disappointed if we’re late,” he reminds her.

Honōka huffs. She hates Orochimaru-sensei’s disappointment more than anything else, Kakashi thinks.

Then she grins and grabs his hand, tugging him onto a side street. He digs his heels in.

“Honōka—”

“It’s the Bush Clover,” she says, pointing to a sign over a street bar. “Let’s wait for Sensei.”

“Honōka—” he doesn’t think that’s appropriate.

She doesn’t care, and marches straight up to the bartender. She bows her head.

“Hello,” she greets. “May we sit?”

The Akimichi bartender considers them and their hitai-ate. 

“Come in. Sit here.” He says in a tone that suggests he won’t stand for any funny business. He guides them to the corner seats of the bar. “What will it be, Shinobi-san?”

“Tsunemori Honōka-desu. Do you have juice?”

The bartender’s mouth curves up. “I do. Orange, apple, cherry, or grape?”

“Ooh! Cherry, please.”

“And what can I get for you?”

“…Orange juice, please.”

He nods and stoops to retrieve the juice from the cooler under the bar counter. He pours their drinks in fancy glasses and garnishes both with fresh fruit and a mint leaf—Honōka gets a neat spiral of orange peel, and he gets a cherry speared on a little umbrella. The bartender sets their drinks down in front of them on bamboo coasters.

“Thanks, Oji-san!”

The bartender hums. “Shall I start a tab, or will that be all?”

Honōka admires her drink. “This is all,” she says, “our sensei is taking us to supper later.”

“I see,” he says. “Separate bills or together?”

“Together,” she replies, then turns to him. “Toad-slug-snake for who pays?”

He nods and they play the game. He loses like usual—he always picks toad and Honōka always picks snake.

“Oji-san, I’m paying.” Honōka declares. 

Kakashi thinks Honōka doesn’t know how to take advantage of winning. He’s not complaining, though. 

The bartender places the bill on her side of the bar and Honōka stamps it with her ninja registration seal, no.009818, and her thumbprint. He collects it and turns to place it inside the till. Kakashi takes a sip of his orange juice.

“Are Sensei and Jiraiya-sama on their way yet?” he asks.

She shakes her head once and stops, squeezing her eyes shut and clenching her jaw.

“Your eyes are still bothering you?”

She swallows and gestures. He waits for her to elaborate.

“There’s like, a streak, when I move my head too fast.”

“…Is it impeding your vision?”

“No—that’s the thing. It’s like I’m looking through a magnifying glass, constantly. Whatever I look at is in super focus, so when I shake my head, everything I see goes in and out of super focus too.”

“Then don’t focus,” he says. Honōka stares off into the distance often enough—it shouldn’t be too hard for her.

She glares at him.

“I’m trying! But my eyes are weird and they won’t stop being so focused.”

Tsunade-sama should look at Honōka’s eyes before the meeting.

“Tsunade-san’s on her way,” Honōka says, and his eye twitches. “No, I can’t actually read your mind. Inoichi-san won’t teach me how, because it’s a stupid ‘hiden’ jutsu and he’s a big meanie.”

“Right.”

Honōka frowns for a moment.

“She’s bringing Dan-san.”

“Dan-san?” he asks. Yes—he was afraid she was about to say Danzō.

“Katō Dan.”

Kakashi has no idea who she’s talking about.

“He’s Shizune’s uncle—you know, Shizune from the Academy?”

“…”

“Hm… sometimes I call him the washed-out-colors man, because he’s all pale skin and pale hair and pale presence. His eyes are really pretty, though—they’re this dark green color. Pine green, I think.”

Tsunade chops Honōka on the head.

“’Washed-out-colors man’?” Tsunade growls in Honōka’s ear. “You are so rude sometimes…!”

“Only sometimes?” he snorts. “I think you mean all the time, Tsunade-sama.”

Katō Dan chuckles and Tsunade affectionately runs her fingers through Kakashi’s hair. Despite what people think (and dog summoning contract aside) he doesn’t actually like being petted on the head… 

…

Well, sometimes it’s okay.

Honōka pouts at him and rubs her head. Tsunade’s chops are not gentle.

“Where’s Orochimaru and Jiraiya? He didn’t say you and the nuisance were tagging along.”

Honōka points to herself, “Me? A nuisance?”

“Yes, you—you’re a real pain in my ass, you know?” Tsunade roughly pats Honōka on the head, no less affectionately than she did him.

Honōka squeezes her eyes shut again, grimacing from the uncontrolled shaking of her head. Tsunade pauses. 

“Your eyes are bothering you that much? Orochimaru, that bastard…! He should have brought you straight to me if you were experiencing this much discomfort!”

“It’s not that bad, Tsunade-san.” Honōka protests. “I just feel nauseous when I shake my head.”

Tsunade scoffs. “Not that bad…!”

“Tōru, do you mind if I sit next to this brat and figure out what’s wrong with her eyes?” Tsunade asks. Honōka stiffens.

“Ain’t nothing wrong with her eyes, Tsunade-hime, but go ahead.”

Honōka flashes the bartender a grateful smile, dimples and everything. Kakashi thinks the bartender may just have earned himself a loyal customer. Kakashi takes another sip of his orange juice while no one is watching; it’s the perfect balance of sweet and tangy. Kakashi approves.

Tsunade ignores the exchange in favor of assessing Honōka’s vision with her jutsu. 

After a moment, Tsunade tilts her head and frowns.

“Are you transforming your eyes?”

Honōka considers. “I don’t think so,” she says.

“Orochimaru said it changed while you were working on fūinjutsu.” Tsunade says, avoiding the specifics. “Could you describe to me what was happening while you were?”

Honōka hums.

“I was having trouble seeing it, so I focused really hard until I could. My eyes stung a bit and I thought it was a phantom pain, since I was looking at it from inside liminal space—but when I returned to reality, my eyes burned and ached and everything was really bright and glowy and big.”

“Bright and glowy and big, huh?” Tsunade muses. “Despite what Orochimaru thinks, I’m not a master in every medical field. I’ll set you up with the optometrist at the hospital soon, okay? Until then, try not to strain yourself. There’s nothing wrong per se, but the structure of your eyes has definitely changed.”

Honōka purses her lips. 

“Don’t give me that look, brat, and you better not bail on me either.”

Kakashi sighs. “I’ll make sure she goes, Tsunade-sama.”

Tsunade suddenly laughs. 

“They’ve already got a handler picked out for you, huh, brat?”

Orochimaru-sensei and Jiraiya appear out of a shunshin.

“He’s self appointed.” Sensei says.

Tsunade laughs harder.

“It’s too funny!” she says, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. “She’s like a mini Ojī-chan—we should have lent Kakashi Tobi-jī-san’s journal, too. He’s going to need all the tips he can get to keep her in line.”

Honōka scowls at them. “I do _not_ need a handler!”

“Genma once walked in on her practicing a water breathing technique in her kitchen sink.” He says. Genma thought she was trying to drown herself.

“It worked!”

“Really?” Jiraiya asks. “How?”

Sensei massages his temples. “Chemical decomposition.”

Tsunade stops laughing.

_“What?!”_


	98. Ottā-san is an otter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eventually, the meeting finishes and most of the unfamiliar shinobi leave. A few remain—like Fugaku’s father, Gaku’s younger sister, and Anbu Otter. She waves at the masked Anbu agent and he awkwardly waves back. 

They arrive on time, and she’s prepared for there to be _several_ others. Of course, Sensei was purposely underestimating earlier. There are several-several _others_ at the meeting.

She sticks close to Sensei—closer than she usually does. She doesn’t like being overwhelmed by too many unfamiliar presences, not since Kōmori and the border patrol. Kakashi follows just behind her.

She pokes and prods the various nexuses without looking away from Sensei’s back. Whatever happened to her eyes, her peripheral vision is almost as sharp as her central vision—useful, but also very nauseating. 

Some people notice her intrusions, and that’s fine—she’s not trying to disguise what she’s doing. No one glares or complains, so she supposes they expected the extra scrutiny. 

Minato’s already seated in the large banquet hall, sitting seiza on his zabuton. She thinks he’s almost as nervous as she is.

Jiraiya takes the cushion on his right, and Sensei takes the cushion on his left. There are two smaller zabuton cushions positioned behind Sensei, and those are the seats she and Kakashi claim. Dan sits in the same row as Sensei, Jiraiya, and Minato, but Tsunade heads to the front.

The front row faces everyone else, and is all clan heads and their heirs, she guesses. Fugaku sits next to his father, looking serious. He’s also nervous. She bites her lip. Everyone is so _tense._

She finishes her scan. The banquet hall is clean—no one is secretly a Root agent, but that doesn’t guarantee that no one in the room doesn’t secretly support Danzō.

If someone doesn’t like what they hear tonight, and tips Danzō off…

Her stomach growls.

Kakashi said there’d be food, but no self-respecting shinobi would dare eat anything in the present circumstance, even if it was an Akimichi serving them. Her stomach cramps—she’s going to stress eat so much food when this is over. 

After another moment, the gathered shinobi sit and the quiet murmurs fade away.

Tsunade speaks first.

“I’d like to begin by reminding everyone that there will be no disclosures of the gathered evidence—tonight’s meeting is not about that.” Tsunade pauses. No one complains or challenges her. “Aside from the evidence already provided, I think many of us here have already experienced, firsthand, the creeping threat of Shimura Danzō.

“The body of a precious clan mate—destroyed beyond recognition or never recovered after a mission gone horribly wrong; a talented brother or sister or cousin, recruited into Anbu—dead after a handful of routine missions. A child, fast tracked into their genin career—” Tsunade swallows. “Misfortune after misfortune, until your clan, _your family,_ is reduced to nothing. Suspicious rumors— _malicious rumors_ —and unusual, uncharacteristic, suicides. Sudden illnesses and unexplained deaths—disturbed graves and stolen belongings of the deceased after funerals and wakes.”

It feels like everyone in the room takes a sharp breath in and holds it. There’s a thrum of pain, stale and fresh and everything in between—like Tsunade’s words are nails ripping into a scab that’s been picked over and over.

“Everyone here, _everyone,_ is affected by the cruel machinations of Shimura Danzō. Even if it wasn’t your clan mate, your brother or your sister, your cousin, or your child, your mother or your father. It mightn’t have been anybody you knew the name of. But it has affected you.

"Because we are all Konoha shinobi, and we are less for every death.”

Tears glisten in Tsunade’s eyes, but do not fall. She looks every single person in the eye and dares them to rebuke her for her emotional response. Her tears are angry, Honōka thinks. Frustrated, but also hopeful.

“Nothing changes until we decide to act. Remember that.”

Shikaku crosses his arms and opens his eyes. They were closed for the entire duration of Tsunade’s speech. He looks calm… feels quiet. Contained. He’s planning something, she thinks.

“I know some of you still don’t care, and I _get_ it—it hasn’t happened to you, yet. You aren’t angry enough to do anything about a nameless, faceless, shinobi dying the good death.”

Shikaku slams his fist down with a loud bang. Honōka flinches.

“There’s nothing fucking good about dying! And dying a pawn’s death while Shimura Danzō moves all the pieces on the board is the second worst fate I can think of! The worst? Living.” 

Shikaku pauses.

“The worst fate I can imagine is living, knowing I’m just a piece on the board, doing exactly what that bastard wants. Anyone who walks away tonight, knowing what I _know_ everyone here knows, and does _nothing_ —you’re the lowest of the low.”

Silence. Shikaku snorts.

“You cowards, where's your Will of Fire?”

Honōka clenches her fists on her lap. Did he just… use her argument? The same one she used on him at the border camp?

It works. The shinobi who were quietly listening and contemplating, but not engaging, now yell over each other to be heard. They’re all determined to help—whether by providing more evidence against Danzō, or by fighting himself if they have to.

Torifu clears his throat and the din from the righteously furious shinobi dies down. Despite the banquet hall being almost silent again, Honōka’s head thrums from the intense emotional atmosphere.

She raises her amplitude to drown out the noise, and Kakashi startles her by suddenly grabbing her hand. He _zaps_ her.

‘Ow!’ she mouths.

He shrugs, unapologetically, and focuses his chakra in his lower dantian. The density of the lightning increases and his nexus spins faster. Kakashi’s sensory-field, his EM field, expands.

It’s covers the banquet hall and knocks out most signatures, but not all. People like herself who have naturally large sensory-fields remain unaffected.

Amazing! Kakashi didn't even need her help—he figured it out all on his own!

Thanks to Kakashi’s genius, Honōka can take a deep breath and gather her wits. She taps a quick message on his hand in tap code.

_‘Thanks. I am okay now.’_

He nods and lets his focused chakra disperse. She doesn’t think it’s something he can use for extended periods just yet. The noise returns but she’s prepared to stomach it, now that she knows it’s coming.

“Konohagakure is in a bad way.” Torifu says. “The whole Land of Fire is in a bad way. This war is more bloody than the two before it. We can’t afford to mess up right now—a civil war could ruin us. But we can’t afford to let Danzō be, either.”

“Shimura Danzō is just one man.” Tsunade says. “But he is not alone or unsupported. It’s likely that Mitokado Homura and Utatane Koharu willingly, and knowingly, support him. He has also forced the cooperation of several clans by holding their children hostage in his paramilitary organization Root.”

“Think of Root as a stricter, more brutal, subdivision of Anbu.” Sensei says. “But do not trust Root agents to act in the interest of Konoha or our Hokage.”

“We’re not asking anyone here to be prepared to start a civil war.” Shikaku says. “We’re asking everyone to help us prevent a civil war from ever beginning.”

The plans they discuss with the present shinobi are all contingencies—things everyone can do if the main plan fails.

The main plan (getting rid of Danzō and freeing Hokage-sama) is not discussed. It’s too crucial to risk revealing to the wrong person. No one begs for details.

Eventually, the meeting finishes and most of the unfamiliar shinobi leave. A few remain—like Fugaku’s father, Gaku’s younger sister, and Anbu Otter. She waves at the masked Anbu agent and he awkwardly waves back. 

Honōka’s seen this Anbu agent shadowing the Hokage before—twice in the Hokage’s office, and nearly every time she went for tea and manjū with Hokage-sama.

She found it odd at first, because she didn’t think Hokage-sama needed a bodyguard. She thought he was like a secretary for a while—and then realized it wasn’t Anbu Otter monitoring Hokage-sama, but Hokage-sama keeping an eye on Anbu Otter. He’s protective of Anbu Otter in a way that he isn’t with the other Anbu agents.

They’re both Shinobi with earth natured nexuses and similar chakra ratios. She thinks they might be related—but Hokage-sama has only ever talked about his wife, Biwako-obā-san, and his son, Asuma. But, again, the identities of Anbu agents are supposed to be secret.

Ryōma enters from behind the room divider and sits next to Anbu Otter. She wasn’t sure why Ryōma wasn’t sitting in the room with everyone—until his tiniest kikaichū started creeping in the shadows of the dimly lit room, attaching themselves to shirt sleeves and other loose clothing. It makes sense to tag everyone, to know where they go after this meeting, just in case someone tries to report their activities to Danzō or one of his supporters.

Chōza and Inoichi get up and collect the stray cushions, stacking them in a neat pile, and Torifu asks if anyone has a preference on the supper menu.

“Sweet sake,” Fugaku’s father requests. “You know my preferences, Torifu.”

Tsunade grumbles something under her breath.

“What was that, Senju-hime?”

“I said, that’s bad for your condition.”

Fugaku’s father, Fushima, scoffs.

Fugaku clears his throat.

“Just one cup, Torifu-san,” Fugaku says.

“A large one, Torifu.” Fushima says.

Torifu rolls his eyes at them.

“Honōka-chan—anything you’d like to eat?”

“Tako—!”

Kakashi covers her mouth with his hand.

“She’ll have salt-broiled saury and eggplant-mixed miso soup, Torifu-san.”

She pouts behind Kakashi’s hand. Those are his favorites.

Torifu chuckles. “And anything with octopus?”

She signs the affirmative.

Torifu leaves, and everyone rearranges their cushions to sit in a rough circle. She dives for the spot next to Ryōma and Kakashi follows her, glowering at Ryōma behind her back. He knows she knows he’s doing it, but doesn’t care.

“Ottā-san, are you helping us rescue Hokage-sama?”

Jiji does a double take and Fugaku snorts.

“Kid, Honōka—do you know everybody?”

“No,” she says. “But Hokage-sama buys me a specialty manjū for every Anbu agent I can spot on the way to Ichiban Manjū.” She hopes they can have tea together again, eventually. “Ottā-san is so good at hiding with genjutsu he doesn’t know how to hide the old-fashioned way anymore.”

Anbu Otter’s ears turn bright red.

“Banī-san is the best at hiding. She bought me the entire special manjū set when I finally spotted her.”

“Banī-san…?” Anbu Otter says. “You mean Anbu Rabbit?”

“Un! Because Banī-san is a bunny, and Ottā-san is an otter.”

Fushima laughs, and it turns into a hacking cough. Fugaku and Tsunade immediately crowd him, and he shoos them away even as his face turns purple. They hover, anxiously. He clears his throat and manages a rough chuckle.

“I attended a budget meeting with the council last summer.” Fushima says in explanation of his apparently uncharacteristic good-humor. “Councilman Mitokado was furious at Team Ro for claiming fifteen thousand Ryō in mission expenses… on manjū.”

Thanks to the little bet she made with Hokage-sama, she always left Ichiban Manjū with takeaway—and usually too much for her to eat on her own, so she shared with Rin, Guy, and Obito. Kakashi doesn’t like sweets though, so she never bothered bringing him any. 

She didn’t know Hokage-sama was using his personal Anbu team’s mission expenses to fund her manjū addiction, though. 

Anbu Otter’s mask tilts down—Honōka thinks he might be scowling. “Homura-san called us a fat waste of time and money. The Hokage authorized it, though…”

Hokage-sama probably won’t make the same bet if they ever go for tea and manjū again, she thinks.

Kakashi scrutinizes her from the corner of his eye.

“Honōka, how come you aren’t—”

“Kakashi!” Minato scolds. 

She sticks her tongue out at him, and he retaliates by pulling his eyelid down at her. 

“Children,” Sensei says, _“behave.”_

“Yes, Sensei,” she and Kakashi chorus.

“I’m still heavier than you,” she whispers. Kakashi zaps her, again. “Ow!”

_“Children!”_


	99. an educated mind conquers fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chōza laughs. “Never challenge an Aburame to an eating competition, right Tori-ji?”
> 
> Torifu solemnly nods.

Torifu enlists Chōza's and Inoichi's help to carry the food in—and it’s a real feast! He didn’t get her takoyaki, but the makizushi with deep fried tempura and octopus is just as delicious. The eel sauce is delicious, too!

The tense emotional background noise fades as they eat. Good food heals the body and soothes the soul, and no one talks about—or thinks about—Danzō and the war. It’s nice. 

She over indulges a bit, but she hasn’t had food this good since before border patrol. She attempts to get Kakashi to try something different too, but it’s hard when he already demolished his saury and miso soup and refuses to take another bite. Honōka turns her attention on Ryōma, who hasn’t stopped chewing once.

“…”

Wow. He can eat a lot. Where does it _go?_

He notices her watching and swallows.

“Kikaichū.” He says. She frowns.

Chōza laughs. “Never challenge an Aburame to an eating competition, right Tori-ji?”

Torifu solemnly nods.

She could try, she thinks, but she would probably get sussed out—and while the Akimichi Clan doesn’t mind their guests eating their fill, they do not tolerate wastefulness. And her trick for eating competitions is _somewhat_ wasteful. 

“The kikaichū consume both chakra and nutrients from the digestive tract.”

“Oh, I see.” Makes sense. “Ne, Ryōma-kun, why did the kikaichū try to eat through my nexus?”

Minato sprays tea and Sensei grimaces.

“At mealtime, kid, _really?”_ Jiraiya complains, dinner tray lifted above his head to avoid it being drenched with tea.

Ryōma considers.

“Kikaichū feed at a steady rate dependent upon the host’s chakra flux.”

“Flux?”

“The outflow of excess chakra.”

“Hmm…? And?”

There’s a twinge of suspicion and irritation from Ryōma, and she goes back to her food. They’re from the same world and have been reborn into the same world again, but their second upbringings couldn’t have been more different. The Aburame Clan is very secretive about their jutsu—their hiden jutsu—and that secretiveness is now ingrained in Ryōma.

He considers again.

“The greater the flux, the faster the kikaichū develop. The faster they develop, the sooner they are able to propagate. Hosting kikaichū requires one to constantly monitor the supply of flux provided to the colony. Too little and the colony will abandon the host. Too much and the colony will expand rapidly and overwhelm the host, becoming aggressive. This is when a colony is most likely to cause damage to chakra nodes, most often targeting the seventh gate for its abundant chakra supply.”

She thinks she might have a lot of flux—her chakra is always in motion and has a fast refresh rate.

“Ne, ne—how did they get inside of me in the first place?” she didn’t notice it happening at all!

“…”

“…?”

“You should chew more thoroughly.”

She ate them?! _Ew!_

Tsunade pinches the bridge of her nose and Sensei touches two fingers to his temple. Jiji places his food down while eying Minato’s coughing fit. There’s varying amounts of disapproval and amusement, and she’s surprised the amusement stems mostly from Fugaku and his father, who look outwardly very stern.

“I thought you were afraid of bugs?” Kakashi grumbles.

“I am.” She says. “But fear is only as deep as the mind allows—thus, an educated mind conquers fear.”

Ryōma stops chewing and one eyebrow creeps up. The blue marking on his cheek twitches.

“Shiratori Masao.” Ryōma says, quietly. “Any relation?”

Her smile widens. “He was my grandfather.”

Ryōma snorts on a laugh. His facial expression remains static. Anbu Otter looks on, curious.

“What’s so funny?” she asks.

“The last time I met you, you were sulking at the dōjō after getting suspended.”

She got suspended from school a lot, so she can’t pin down any one memory of a time it happened, or even bring to mind the faces of her grandfather’s students. He had a lot of students before he fractured his spine in a bicycling accident.

“You trained at Ojī-chan’s dōjō?”

“Aa.”

“Jūdō? Karate? Both?”

He gestures and she grins.

“Not another one,” Kakashi groans.

“Which rank were you in jūdō? Kyū? Dan?”

“Yondan.” Fourth dan, a black belt.

“A-ah! I’m jealous. I only made Nidan.” Before she died.

“What are you guys even talking about, Tatsuma?” Anbu Otter asks. He ate with his mask tipped up just enough to reveal his mouth—and, like Kakashi, ate fast and quickly replaced it.

Ryōma looks at Anbu Otter, but it’s impossible to tell if they’re actually looking at each other. Honōka giggles and pops another piece of makizushi into her mouth.

“That’s classified.”

“Really, Tatsuma? And hey, why does the chibi keep calling you Ryōma-kun?”

“That’s classified.”

“Tatsuma, come on, man! At least tell me how you know each other?”

“That’s classified.”

She holds her hands over her mouth to keep from laughing and spitting rice and nori everywhere. She swallows and then quickly polishes off the rest, not wanting to get caught with her mouth full again.

Honōka glances around. It’s only Anbu Otter, Uchiha Fushima, and Inuzuka Tsume that don’t know about her. Tsume is quieter than she expected, being Gaku’s little sister, but Gaku did compare her to Kakashi once; and Uchiha Fushima-san is actually less scary than she thought—which is a relief. She’s not sure what she would have done if he wasn’t nice to Fugaku.

“Pretty much everyone here knows about me already, Ryōma-kun.”

He chokes, and Anbu Otter thumps him on the back a couple times.

 _“E-everyone?_ Why on earth would you tell _everyone?”_

She frowns.

“Because they’re my friends and I trust them?”

The look he gives her screams, ‘you are so naïve!’ and she crosses her arms at him, unimpressed.

Ryōma clears his throat and composes himself. “I suppose, being an Empath would make it abundantly clear who is an enemy and who is a potential ally.”

“Yup!” she says, flashing him her brightest smile. Kakashi mutters something she doesn’t quite catch, but sounds suspiciously like ‘dimples’.

Ryōma pushes his empty tray forward and sighs, resolved composure wavering. “Shiratori-sensei did say you were like a bull in a china shop.”

Honōka pouts and Orochimaru can’t help but think a ‘bull in a china shop’ is a rather apt description for his student.

Predictably, Inuzuka Tsume’s patience runs out the moment she’s finished eating. She growls.

“So, what’s this ‘classified’ shit all about?”

Gaku facepalms.

“Lil’ sis—”

“It’s Tsume, jerk-face.”

“Lil’ sis, your language—”

“Shaddup, jerk-face! I don’t give a rat’s ass what a bunch of spoiled brats, snobby teenagers, and uptight Uchiha think.” She glares at him and snarls, “What I care about is the snake bastard and that cockroach have something to do with our pack being burned alive like a bunch o’ vermin.”

His student’s face blanks, taken aback by the sudden vitriol and unconcealed KI rolling off of the Inuzuka heiress. He expects she is devising the most suitable façade for dealing with the angry teenager, or is possibly just stunned. Tsume _does_ have a rather abrasive personality—a common trait amongst the Inuzuka women. It can be quite jarring when one is not expecting it.

“While it is true Ryōma-kun and I were involved with Danzō and his organization, neither of us were directly involved in the suspected attack against your clan, Inuzuka Tsume. Danzō ‘compartmentalizes’ extensively. Even longtime agents, like myself, cannot be certain of the true scope of the organization.” He had, after all, never realized Kōmori was a Root agent.

The Inuzuka heiress narrows her eyes and rumbles threateningly. Kakashi tenses and Gaku scrubs his face with his hands, making a low, frustrated sound. 

“All I’m hearing are lame ass excuses, snake.”

Orochimaru has no patience for disrespect. He flares his own killing intent at the yappy child and her growl deepens, short brown hair bristling.

“Woah, woah, boss man!” Gaku shouts, showing just a hint of teeth. “Tsume, stop. _Now.”_

“Don’t tell me what to do, jerk-face! You’re not the boss of me!”

Oh, lovely. Teenage drama _and_ a sibling quarrel. Just what this delightful dinner party needs. He rolls his eyes.

“I told him he shouldn’t have brought Tsume…” Fugaku grumbles. "She's too confrontational."

His father takes a sip from his sake cup while his eyes are turned and Tsunade glares at the elderly Uchiha.

“Tsume-chan—” Minato tries.

“Don’t call me ‘chan’, tracksuit!”

“…!” Minato gapes. “There’s nothing wrong with tracksuits!”

Tsume and Gaku continue squabbling, with Minato trying to interject in his defense. Fugaku notices his father imbibing from his cup and that starts another, more hushed, argument.

Orochimaru shakes his head. He understands the young heiress is no doubt reeling from the suspected foul play that has torn her family apart—even if she was little more than a infant when it happened—and while she embodies her families more aggressive, animalistic traits, she's also known for being a shrewd tactician. It is unlike her to start an argument before hearing out the full details. 

His student’s expression is still blank, but he can feel her chakra rising. He wonders if he should be concerned.

He has his answer when a pulse of chakra like nails on a chalkboard thrums through the air. Orochimaru grits his teeth and several people cover their ears, but it’s not an audible sound, rather a high frequency wave of pure chakra. This, he realizes, is the technique she was using to torment Kōmori and the other sensors—dialed to the extreme. Silence reigns in the banquet hall.

“Honōka, _what the fuck?”_ Kakashi asks, working his jaw to crack his ears.

“Language, kid.” Jiraiya says, tapping the side of his head like he is attempting to free trapped water.

Tsume sits frozen, only her eyes moving, blinking rapidly. She glances around the hall, almost _fearfully,_ like she is startled _._

“Tsume?” Gaku asks.

She swallows, making darting eye contact with her brother. She _whines_ and her eyes gloss over with tears. 

“Ah.” Ryōma says. “Genjutsu: Yume Fumin.”

The wakeful dream illusionary technique. Gaku pales and he clenches his jaw. That would make a disturbing amount of sense. 

“Hey, hey, lil’ sis—it’s okay! You’re okay now…! Here, take my hand.”

Inoichi and Tsunade share a look. The wakeful dream illusionary technique can have serious consequences on both the physical and mental health of the victim—especially if the technique remains unbroken for a significant period.

The illusionary technique separates the unconscious mind from the conscious mind. The unconscious mind is subjected to a traumatic dream-like experience, leaving the conscious mind vulnerable to suggestions by the user of the genjutsu. 

“Nī-chan… you’re dead—they told me!—I saw your arm…! It was yours, I—I know it was!” Tsume forms the seal for Genjutsu Kai and flares her chakra. When the illusion she thinks she is experiencing does not break, she feels not relief, but confusion and terror. She tries to break the ‘illusion’ again.”

“Sh, it’s okay, little sister… I’m right here, I didn't die!”

Gaku reaches out to hug his sister, but she folds over and buries her face in her lap. Gaku forces himself to stop trying to comfort her, having enough sense to realize he is only worsening her condition.

Fushima crosses his arms and glances at Honōka, Sharingan spinning.

“That was one hell of a kai, girl.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Genjutsu: Yume Fumin/wakeful dream illusionary technique (can also be read as insomnia/sickness) is a genjutsu that basically has the victim trapped in a traumatizing dream while their wakeful self does what the user wants. In this case, Tsume was meant to sow discord in the meeting.


	100. “Bull in a china shop.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So,” Gaku says, conversationally. “I’m going to rip that bastard’s throat out with my bare hands.”
> 
> “Does he have to be alive when you do?” Tsunade asks. “I won’t be satisfied unless I rip his beating heart out and show it to him first.”
> 
> Dan lets out a wistful sigh. “I’d like to see that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternative title: Horse in the Hospital (Danzō is a horse in a hospital)

“How did you know Tsume was under the affects of Genjutsu: Yume Fumin?” Anbu Otter asks. “It’s supposed to be virtually impossible to detect.”

“I didn’t,” she says. “I just wanted everyone to shut up for a second.”

“Bull in a china shop.” Ryōma repeats.

Inoichi ignores everyone else and kneels next to Tsume, speaking to her soothingly. He coaxes her into answering him and then into sitting up.

“Torifu-san, I think it’s best if Tsume rests somewhere quiet for now. Do you mind if I use Nagihiko-san’s old room?”

“Go ahead. The futon’s in the closet.”

“Chairo’s in the yard. Take him with her, Inoichi.”

“Where—where’s Shiro?” Tsume rasps.

Gaku’s face falls.

“Tsume… Shiro’s—Shiro’s gone. He was getting old and his heart was acting up—we both knew that—it’s why you stayed in Konoha when I went on border patrol, remember?”

Honōka bites her lip. Her ninken died…? Her dog died, and Danzō took advantage of her compromised mental state to put her under a genjutsu? _Bastard._

Tsume covers her mouth to drown out a sob and nods. She remembers what happened, which Honōka thinks is actually a good thing—she can’t imagine what it would be like; being told someone you loved was dead without evidence. She wouldn’t be able to accept it.

Inoichi guides Tsume out and there’s silence as everyone absorbs what just happened. 

“So,” Gaku says, conversationally. “I’m going to rip that bastard’s throat out with my bare hands.”

“Does he have to be alive when you do?” Tsunade asks. “I won’t be satisfied unless I rip his beating heart out and show it to him first.”

Dan lets out a wistful sigh. “I’d like to see that.”

“Sounds like there’s a lineup forming, Orochi.” Jiraiya jokes. “Better call dibs on something before there’s nothing left of the bastard.” 

Sensei scoffs.

“What I have planned is best left unsaid, Jiraiya.”

Shikaku snorts. “Sage forbid you give the ‘children’ any ideas.”

Sensei rolls his eyes and turns his attention to more important matters.

“Honōka, you noticed nothing peculiar about Tsume’s condition before you used your technique?”

She shrugs. “I checked everyone before the meeting for a Root seal—” which was as far as she looked—any deeper felt like intruding, “and kept an eye on the general emotional tone during the meeting. There were no outliers in either intensity of expression, or lack of expression.”

“Why the modified kai, though?” Jiji asks. “You said you wanted us to ‘shut up for a second’, but couldn’t you have finger whistled, or something?”

She points to her teeth. “These are hard to whistle with.” Sometimes, they’re hard to _talk_ with. “And that wasn’t a kai—it was a pulse of high-amplitude ultrahigh-frequency chakra.” 

Which, now that she thinks about it, definitely qualifies as a modified kai. Jiji raises an eyebrow at her. 

“It breaks sensory techniques too.” She says. And, theoretically, ninjutsu—she’s still experimenting with the exact wavelength and amplitude required, but expects it varies based on the jutsu used and the user themself. 

“Of course it does,” Jiji says. “What d’you call this kid again, Kakashi?”

“The jutsu-crusher.”

She pouts at them.

“Moving on,” Sensei says. “We have yet another technique to watch out for—Genjutsu: Yume Fumin.” 

“Senju Tōka created the genjutsu during the Warring States Period. It’s a terrifyingly cruel technique.” Tsunade says. “I don’t know how Danzō replicated it. Tōka-obā-sama declared it kinjutsu and burned all her research.”

Ryōma nods. “It is, as you say, a replication—a mere imitation of the original technique. The genjutsu proved too difficult for any single… Root operative to master. Root currently uses Yume Fumin as a collaborative technique. Agent Yoru handles the ‘dream’ aspect, and agent Hiru handles the ‘wakeful’ aspect.”

Shikaku’s eyes harden.

“Those are the only operatives capable of using the genjutsu?”

“To the best of my knowledge, yes.”

“Orochimaru?”

Sensei shakes his head once. “These last two years, Danzō has steadily increased my workload in the lab, distancing me from Root’s inner circle. Ryōma knows more about specific agents than I do.”

_‘Do you know what happens to old spies—like me—who get too good at what they do, little oni…? They get put down, like an old hunting dog that’s outlived its usefulness…’_

Honōka shivers. What did Danzō have planned for her sensei before she came around? Had Sensei already outlived his ‘usefulness’, even then?

Shikaku closes his eyes, head rolling onto one shoulder, then the other, like he’s about to nod off.

“We have two major, nigh undetectable, genjutsu on the board right now. One of them is Danzō and his allegedly stolen Sharingan containing the ultimate genjutsu called… what’s it called again?”

Fushima clears his throat, “Kotoamatsukami.”

“Kotoamatsukami.” Shikaku repeats. He opens his eyes. “So, we have Danzō with the unbreakable but not irremovable genjutsu, Kotoamatsukami; and the Root agents Yoru and Hiru capable of using a bastardized version of the undetectable but not unbreakable Genjutsu: Yume Fumin. Unfortunately, we can’t go after Danzō until we put him in checkmate, or else we risk dealing with a brainwashed Hokage starting a civil war to counter our coup. We also have to worry about Yume Fumin being used to manipulate those around us.

“Luckily, thanks to Orochimaru recruiting Anbu Otter, we now have access to the Hokage’s residence. We also have Tsunemori Honōka.”

Shikaku looks like he’s in pain when he mentions her name. She cheekily waves at him and he resolutely ignores her.

“With Honōka’s Shinryūgan, we stand a chance of freeing the Hokage from Danzō’s manipulations. This isn’t risk free, as her method does not break the genjutsu known as Kotoamatsukami, instead it removes the memories affected by Kotoamatsukami. We won’t know which memories are affected until Honōka looks—and for all we know, we could be dealing with a severely amnesiac Hokage when she’s done.”

Fushima clears his throat, again. “Does the girl’s Shinryūgan truly remove Kotoamatsukami, or just the memories of when the technique's absolute compulsions were activated?”

“Good question.” Shikaku says. “Orochimaru?”

“I believe Honōka completely removed the genjutsu.” Sensei confidently says. “While speaking with Tsunade and Jiraiya, we determined the earliest suspected usage of the genjutsu on my person, and the ‘triggers’ associated with it. Most of those triggers were simple differences in opinion between myself and Sarutobi-sensei. Others were common behaviors exhibited by both my teammates and total strangers that caused me to react with an expression of ‘utter loathing’.”

“And there’s been no relapses?” Fushima asks.

“None.”

Fugaku suddenly feels mischievous.

“Oyaji, you should ask the kid to remove Kagami’s Curse.”

A vein on Fushima’s forehead pops and he smacks his son on the back of the head. It’s just a gentle love tap, by shinobi standards.

“Fugaku, I swear to Amaterasu and all the gods above and below…” Fushima threatens. “I will flatten you, here and now—”

And then he has a coughing fit. 

Fugaku pours his father a cup of tea and hands it to him, smirking.

“What’s Kagami’s Curse?” she asks.

“Kagami pranked my old man with Kotoamatsukami once. He had a real sense of humor, apparently.” Fugaku shrugs. “Think about it, Oyaji—you get to be free of the dreaded curse and we get to test Honōka’s Shinryūgan.”

Fushima wheezes and Tsunade moves closer. She glares at Fugaku for upsetting his dad’s delicate constitution.

“Uchiha Fugaku, are you gambling with your father’s memories?” she accuses.

“Sure, why not? Maybe he’ll forget he made Mikoto his heir.”

Gaku cackles. “Fugaku, I’m sorry, but you haven’t got a hope in hell of clawing that title back from Mikoto-chan. I heard she’s aiming for both Jōnin Commander _and_ Captain of the KKB now.”

There’s a flicker of annoyance from Shikaku. “Oi, Jōnin Commander is _always_ a Nara.”

“Yeah, and your uncle is doing an outstanding job keeping the seat warm for you.” Gaku snorts.

Shikaku opens and closes his mouth.

“Your uncle is a tool, Nara, don’t even pretend otherwise.”

Shikaku’s ears burn.

“He kind of is, Shikaku.” Chōza whispers.

“Chōza!” Torifu scolds.

“Whatever!” Shikaku yells. “You’re all such a pain…! Anbu Otter sneaks Honōka into the Hokage residence somehow, which I’m sure Orochimaru already has a plan for—goddamn asshole is grinning about something over there—and the rest of us deal with the Root agents Yoru and Hiru.” Shikaku takes a deep breath and points at Ryōma. “How can we find these agents? What do they look like? What are their strengths and weaknesses? I need details.”

Ryōma opens his mouth, and Honōka feels a curious spike of remorse.

“Ah.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. What now?”

“Agents Yoru and Hiru previously went by the names Yayoi and Asahiko.”

The jovial mood plummets. Anbu Otter swears under his breath.

“Oh, fuck.” Gaku says. He makes eye contact with Inoichi, who's standing at the open sliding door to the banquet hall, having just returned from calming Tsume down enough to rest.

Minato frowns. “Yayoi and Asahiko…? _Yamanaka_ Yayoi and Asahiko?”

Ryōma nods.

Chōza and Shikaku pale. Torifu stoops over and covers his eyes. Inoichi stumbles and braces himself on the shōji screen door.

“The… the twins are _alive…?”_

“Aa. They are.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is chapter 100... I'm proud of myself :D
> 
> I don't know if anyone's interested, but I started a discord server. If anyone's interested in hanging out or asking questions, feel free to drop by!
> 
> <https://discord.gg/kdrWm4XEMG>


	101. “Ta-da!”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jiraiya stands up, patting his sleeves and pockets. “I got something.”

Honōka remembers an echo of a pained recollection, the sight of an immaculate garden, and a stone fence overflowing with purple bush clover.

Inoichi was just a stranger, and the pained recollection tasted sharp and bloody and angry, and _so, so_ sad. Inoichi wasn’t her friend then—so she pushed his pain away and left him to sort it out on his own. They might not even be friends now, but Honōka sees his pain, _feels_ his pain, and this time she can’t turn away.

She flickers over as he crumples and helps him sit down. Shikaku and Chōza hover anxiously—she thinks Shikaku wants to shove her away, but Inoichi is clinging to her arm like it’s a piece of driftwood and he is without a sail or a ship in a storm on rough seas.

“Inoichi—” Chōza starts.

“I can’t do this anymore, Chōza! Every time I think I’ve made peace with the past—made peace with myself… it’s never good enough…! _I’m_ never good enough!”

“Come on, Inoichi—get up, man up.” Shikaku says. His words sound tough, but his voice is weak. He _hates_ seeing the normally chipper Inoichi fall apart.

“I can’t _man up_ anymore, Shikaku!” Inoichi shrieks at him. “My parents… they blamed me for the twins’ disappearance—never let me forget that _I_ was responsible because the twins were only genin and I was their chūnin squad leader! I made a mistake…! I was fourteen and nervous about leading my first squad without you guys, and I made a _mistake!”_

He lets out a dry sob, pinching the bridge of his nose and the inside corners of his eyes until the tears stop forming.

“Then Kā-san and Tō-san left for the Kiri front and never returned and I… I was so relieved, because they were gone and no one would keep reminding me of all the mistakes I made…

"Shikaku, what kind of _son_ am I? My parents died and I didn’t cry, didn’t mourn—I went to the mission desk and asked for work the day after their funeral service!”

The sob turns into a laugh. She thinks it’s the most chilling sound she’s ever heard in her life.

“And Yayoi and Asahiko weren’t even killed in action, or abducted by enemy shinobi. _Shimura-fucking-Danzō_ stole them! Because they were ‘special’, because they were a ‘dyad’. Night and Day, Yin and Yang; the moon, and the sun…”

Honōka bites her lip. 

“I suppose he got rid of my parents too… he knew Kā-san wouldn’t stop looking for them.”

Inoichi’s grip on her arm is painful.

“Ahh, I can’t _do_ this anymore… it’s too much…!”

She’s never seen someone spiral so fast and hard before. Devastation, desperation, and depression on repeat. It makes her chest hurt.

“Get up.” She says. She feels the mental equivalent of a sharp intake of breath from the room and squeezes Inoichi’s arm back. “Get up, Inoichi-san.”

“I can’t—”

“You can.”

“…!”

Honōka pulls on Inoichi’s arm, forcing him to either stand or risk dislocating something. He remains dead weight. 

“What happened in the past doesn’t matter right now.” She says. “What we do _right now_ does.”

His bottom lip quivers. Her arm trembles from straining to hold him up.

“We all make mistakes, Inoichi-san. Some aren’t worth worrying about, and some are. Some balance out and others never do. Sometimes, you have the chance to fix one mistake, and make another in the process—other times the opportunity passes without you ever realizing it’s come and gone.”

Inoichi stops fighting her and finally stands, ash blond hair hanging in his eyes as he glares at the floor. Honōka lets go of his arm, and he lets go of hers. He bites his lip until it bleeds. She waits and he remains silent.

“This is your chance to balance the scales,” she says, voice plain. She refuses to coddle him. “Are you going to let it pass you by?” 

“…” 

Inoichi draws in a deep breath.

“No.”

“What are you going to do about it?”

“I’m going to rescue my little sister and baby brother.” Inoichi promises. 

He means it, and his expression is solid—firmly resolute with a merciless edge—which is good, she thinks. Everyone needs a bit of ruthless determination, and Inoichi needs it a little more than most.

“Good.”

She turns on her heel and skips back to Sensei’s.

“Sensei, Sensei—what’s the plan?”

His student shoulders her way between him and Jiraiya, sitting on either corner of their zabuton cushions. She turns her expectant eyes up at him.

“Sensei?” she asks, again.

He gives himself a mental shake and clears his throat. He really shouldn’t be so awed by his student’s ability to casually talk anyone down from the precipice of self-destruction.

“Anbu Otter is expected at the Hokage’s private residence at zero eight hundred hours. The residence is warded so that only authorized persons can cross the threshold without alerting the residence’s barrier team. Am I correct in assuming your signature erasure technique will allow you to cross undetected?”

“Shōkyo?” Minato asks. He considers. “I don’t think so, Orochimaru-sensei. Shōkyo confuses other sensors, not wards and seals.”

“Honōka has another erasure technique besides the Second Hokage’s, Minato.” Orochimaru says.

Honōka doesn't use the technique often, because it makes her _uncomfortable_. Considering the technique is something akin to sealing away the entirety of her chakra, he supposes it would be. It also completely shuts down her sensor abilities—both her ability to sense emotions, and her dōjutsu's ability to see nexuses. 

“Is there a way for us to test it?” Fugaku asks.

Jiraiya stands up, patting his sleeves and pockets. “I got something.”

He produces two slips of paper from his sleeve and plasters them on the floor, then pulses chakra through them. The paper tags glow before fading away completely.

“It’s a basic detection line. The seals at the Hokage Residence are the same kind of thing.” Jiraiya explains. “Hey, kid, walk across it—without hiding your signature.”

Honōka stands and does as asked. Jiraiya is holding a third piece of paper, one that glows when she crosses the line. A control test. This type of seal work affects her then, even if she can neither see nor sense it.

In this case, he thinks it’s more likely that she _can_ see it. He expects the camouflage that renders the paper seals invisible completely fails on Honōka in the same way that the border camp seals failed to disguise the camp from her eyes.

He wouldn't have been surprised if it failed to detect her regardless—he sometimes wonders if her chakra simply acts upon a separate set of rules and laws—and it seems he was not the only one having such thoughts.

Kakashi scowls through his mask and grudgingly passes Minato a few coins; Tsunade swears under her breath and tosses a few more his way. Minato _giggles._

“Okay, now cross it with Shōkyo.”

She crosses again. Jiraiya’s piece of paper glows.

“And with your own technique.”

Honōka pauses for a handful of seconds, then walks across the line for the third time. The paper does not light up.

Minato swears under his breath. He tosses his coins at Fugaku, who smirks, and Fugaku's father holds his hand out for half the spoils.

“Alright, I’d say that’s pretty conclusive.” Jiraiya says, ignoring the coins being tossed to a fro. “The little jutsu-crusher’s signature is as nonexistent as it gets: nonexistent." Jiraiya looks at him, "Do I even want to know how she accomplished that?”

His student opens her mouth to explain.

“No, kid, I don’t actually want to know.” Jiraiya says. “It was rhetorical—because it shouldn’t be possible at all, and I’m betting it isn’t even remotely safe.”

Honōka pouts. 

Shikaku grunts. He and Chōza have returned to their spots, flanking Inoichi on either side. Inoichi sits seiza with perfect posture, chin stubbornly set. 

The Yamanaka heir does not look weak or timid—his two most common modifiers. He looks dangerous and competent, and Orochimaru pities the Root agents he might encounter on his way to rescuing his younger siblings. What did Minato say when Honōka jumped unprepared into his liminal space…? He would turn her brain into ramen noodles?

“Great. She can sneak in with Anbu Otter.” Shikaku says. “How do you think the Hokage’s going to react to his former student’s student showing up? Anbu Otter mentioned the Hokage believes Orochimaru is planning on assassinating him.”

“Sarutobi-sensei will not even know she is there.” He says. “And Honōka will not be sneaking in with Anbu Otter, rather she will sneak in with me while I am disguised as Anbu Otter.”

If their plans fail, he will be there to mitigate any harm Sarutobi-sensei might threaten in his… confused state of mind.

Jiraiya frowns. 

“How are you planning on getting in? You can try to imitate Kazuma’s… Fuck, sorry kid.” Jiraiya waves apologetically in Kazuma’s direction. “You can imitate Kazuma’s signature, but it won’t actually fool the Uzumaki seals at the Hokage Residence. Chakra signatures are like fingerprints—no two signatures are alike—and the seals at the residence are sensitive enough to detect that.”

Jiraiya is correct—a skilled shinobi can certainly make their chakra signature _look_ like something else, but it will never truly be something else. 

“Honōka, please transform into Anbu Otter.”

His student shrugs and faces Anbu Otter. She focuses on him without blinking for a long moment and then morphs. The transformation happens too fast for the eye to follow and without the pop of smoke that accompanies the usual Henge no Jutsu.

She taps the animal mask.

“I won’t be able to take the mask off, Sensei.” Honōka says with Kazuma’s exact voice. “I don’t know what Ottā-san’s face looks like without it.”

“Kazuma-kun will take his mask off for you later.”

Kazuma shakes his head, holding his mask to his face like he expects it to jump off on its own. Orochimaru rolls his eyes at the boy.

“Well, Jiraiya?”

Jiraiya glares at him and his student but takes out another couple sheets of paper. “These are expensive and hard to make,” he grumbles.

He hands one each to Kazuma and Honōka as Kazuma. 

“Mold chakra through the paper like you would for chakra induction paper. It’ll create a pattern on it. If it’s identical, you’ll be able to fool the Uzumaki wards—Kazuma’s signature is keyed in already and won’t react to him crossing the boundary. If it’s off by even a _little—”_

“Ooh! Look, Ottā-san! We match!”

Jiraiya snatches the papers from Kazuma and Honōka as Kazuma and holds them side-by-side, squinting.

“How is this even possible…?”

“What a fucking drag—she’s weird _and_ crazy.” Shikaku says. “And we’re still missing something here. Orochimaru, you said you would be disguised as Kazuma?”

“Anbu Otter…” Kazuma corrects, quietly.

“Honōka,” he says and holds out his hand.

She takes his hand and suddenly _he_ is Anbu Otter, and she is a small white snake wrapped around his arm. Honōka slithers up his arm and ducks into the neck of Otter’s coat, popping her head out to rest on the collar, flicking her tongue like a smile.

“Ta-da!” his little snake says.

Orochimaru chuckles.


	102. stupid question

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Alright, you know what? I think it’s bedtime for you two.”
> 
> “We don’t have a bedtime!” Honōka pants as she attempts to put Kakashi in an arm bar. Kakashi keeps her away by shoving his foot in her stomach. “Oof!”
> 
> “Curfew, then.”

Honōka tilts her head this way and that way to get a good look around the banquet hall. It’s disappointing that she can transform her entire body and still have only one working eye. Oh well. She flicks her tongue and tastes the air instead. 

Emotions have a distinct flavor as a snake, and Shikaku’s amusement tastes warm.

“Ta-da?” he asks, fighting a grin. “I don’t get you; you just revealed a terrifying skill combination and all you say is ‘ta-da’?”

She twists and bops Sensei under the chin with her head. He pushes her away with the gentle care of having handled snakes much smaller than her for their precious venom, and thumbs a soft stroke over her parietal scales.

“Fear my awesome powers?” she says.

That draws a chuckle from nearly everyone. Shikaku rolls his eyes at her.

“You might want to transform into something less obvious for the real deal.” He says. “Maybe a monkey.”

She flicks her tongue again. Kazuma is glaring at Shikaku behind his mask, or maybe he isn’t. She can’t actually tell, but his irritation tastes cool.

“Something less obvious?” she asks. “That’s easy. I’ll transform into a kunai or a tantō or something else inanimate.”

“Inanimate… huh.” Jiji says. “That’s… that’s the most difficult thing to transform into, you know that, right?”

She flicks her tongue at Jiji and transforms into a long wool scarf in a nice royal blue color—just a bit faded. She ties herself in a bow and Tsunade chokes on a sudden snort, turning red at the small grin Dan shoots her way.

“Maa… doesn’t seem that hard to me.” Kakashi says. 

“If it’s so easy, why don’t you try, dog-boy?” Shikaku challenges.

She waves her tassels at Kakashi and projects her voice, “Do it!”

Kakashi forms the last hand seal for the Henge no Jutsu and shouts, “Henge!” 

A small futon falls on top of Minato, who yelps as it attempts to suffocate him. Honōka laughs so hard her stitches wrinkle.

Jiraiya shakes his head at the giggling scarf around the neck of his disguised teammate and the sentient futon attempting to smother his traitorous former student.

“Are either of these kids _normal?”_ he asks. “Wait, don’t answer that—stupid question.”

Orochimaru as Anbu Otter chuckles. “Honōka, you may end the transformation now.”

His normal appearance returns and the kid springs off him as a coiled snake and lands on top of the struggling futon as a bobbed tailed calico cat. She flexes her paws and digs her claws in.

With a pop of smoke and a loud yelp from Kakashi, Honōka reverts to her human form and the two kids roll off Minato, kicking and screaming. 

He privately thinks there’s something wrong with everyone in this room. They’re planning an assault on the Hokage in the morning with a new and untested dōjutsu that’s guaranteed to remove a _not_ insignificant portion of his memories… and here they are, laughing and smiling as Orochi’s two littlest monsters duke it out on the tatami mats of Torifu’s family home.

“Alright, you know what? I think it’s bedtime for you two.”

“We don’t have a bedtime!” Honōka pants as she attempts to put Kakashi in an arm bar. Kakashi keeps her away by shoving his foot in her stomach. “Oof!”

“Curfew, then.”

They ignore him. Rude.

Orochimaru whistles, loud and shrill, and the kids jump apart.

“Honōka, Kakashi—it’s time to leave. Honōka has an important mission in the morning.”

“Wait!” Kazuma shouts. 

Orochimaru crosses his arms and waits—but Jiraiya can tell from the tilt of his head that he’s amused and not irritated with being commanded to ‘wait’. 

Kazuma awkwardly clears his throat and gestures at Honōka and the former Root agent, “What was the classified information?”

Aburame Tatsuma—Ryōma—looks exasperated. He flicks his goggles up and rubs his eyes—kid looks like he hasn’t slept in a week.

Honōka grins and he’s betting she’s going to say something maddening to Kazuma, but is (thankfully) interrupted by Fugaku and his father walking over to their little group.

Fugaku jabs her in the forehead and she protests halfheartedly. His father scoffs.

“Did no one tell you, boy? The gods have blessed the girl with a second life of unknown purpose.”

Jiraiya stares at the ceiling, trying very hard not to roll his eyes. He’s not surprised that’s how the Uchiha patriarch interpreted the information they currently have on Orochi’s kid. Jiraiya’s still not sure what he himself thinks of Honōka, but he doubts it’s as ‘simple’ or as easy as being favored by the gods—whatever that means. 

He’s seen the Rinnegan in person, and maybe he believes in the Sage of Six Paths—but the Sage actually existed (according to Ōgama Sennin) and whether Nagato is the actual reincarnation of the Sage (Nagato doesn’t remember being the Sage, unlike how Tsunemori Honōka remembers being Tachibana Tomoe) or a descendant lucky— _un_ lucky—enough to have inherited the legendary dōjutsu.

Fushima pats a frozen Kazuma on the shoulder and then turns to Torifu.

“Torifu—wonderful food and sake, as usual. This old man will excuse himself now, but please do invite us again.”

Torifu rumbles out a laugh. “Old man, Fushima? You’re barely older than me, and I’m no ‘old’ man.”

“Half a decade makes a world of difference, Torifu.” Fushima says. “One morning, you wake up with back pain and think ‘ah, the back flips are finally catching up’.”

Torifu laughs louder. “Good thing I was never any good at back flips.”

Fushima faces Orochimaru, arms casually crossed. 

“Tell that fool Hiruzen it’s rude to turn down invitations for tea when you see him tomorrow.”

Orochimaru nods once. It’s the best ‘good luck’ anyone can offer him.

He sends his students back to Minato’s apartment after Fugaku and his father leave, but doesn’t miss the way Honōka pauses in the yard, chakra subtly rising and falling across ‘frequencies’—searching for something, for someone. He catches her eye and she blushes, hurriedly jogging away to catch up with Minato and Kakashi.

Orochimaru sighs. If she wanted to see her sister, she should have arrived early, like he instructed her to.

Tsunade does not rope them into drinking again and instead accompanies Katō Dan on his way to collect his niece from a friend. Gaku remains at Torifu’s residence—silently guarding his sister, and Ryōma accepts Torifu’s offer to one of the guest bedrooms. Inoichi and Shikaku head to the main house with Chōza, and will no doubt make plans to detain Yoru and Hiru—or Yayoi and Asahiko—until Honōka can remove the Yamanaka twins’ Root seals.

He leaves with Jiraiya

“…I forgot to turn on the electricity and water again.”

“Oh, for goodness’ sake, Jiraiya.” He changes direction and heads for Jiraiya’s ‘small’ family estate. “Have you not told your parents you are back in town? I find it hard to believe they would not have sent someone over to straighten out your affairs for you.”

Jiraiya scratches his cheek.

“Er—I haven’t told them?”

Orochimaru scoffs. “It is not as though they have not realized, Jiraiya.” Jiraiya is a charismatic fool—he’s certain the entire village is aware of his return by now. 

“…”

“Jiraiya?” he asks, suspicious. “Have you been arguing with your family again?”

“Tch.”

Did he just ‘tch’ him? Orochimaru feels his entire face spasm and fights to control the condescending smirk that wants to take over. As satisfying as it would be, he does not want to add further insult to injury. The oaf can be so sensitive, sometimes.

“What happened this time? Did you perhaps offend their sensibilities with your vagabond ways?” he does not name the incident in Ame, though he’s betting it’s the cause of his teammate’s current dilemma.

“No,” he says. “That’s not it, not this time.”

“Oh?” he asks. 

They’ve reached Jiraiya’s home, and he follows the wires overhead to the breaker box on the side of the house. Jiraiya follows him, watching in interest as he unlocks the box and starts flipping stitches. He’ll get the breakers inside after.

He finds the water meter nearby and pries it open with a kunai and then crisps the hoard of insects that felt so inclined to make the inside of the water meter their home. He turns the water back on and slams the cover down. _Done._ Jiraiya chuckles.

“Remember that time Tsunade dropped a big hairy spider down the back of your collar and—”

“No.”

He laughs louder and Orochimaru steers him to the front door to disarm whatever traps and seals the fūinjutsu-shi felt so inclined to darken his door with. Jiraiya simply bites his thumb and smears blood across the door frame—blood that quickly soaks into the wood and disappears. The faintly humming wards go quiet and they enter.

Jiraiya flicks a light switch, and nothing happens.

“I thought you fixed the power?”

“There is nothing to ‘fix’, Jiraiya. The interior circuit breaker simply hasn’t been switched on. Where is it?”

“Uhh…?”

Orochimaru rolls his eyes and makes his way towards the kitchen and back hall. He finds the interior electrical box and feels for the switches. It’s almost too dark to see inside the house.

Jiraiya snaps his fingers next to him and a small flame winks above his thumb. He hums and finishes flicking switches.

“Turn the kitchen tap on. See if there is rust in the pipes.”

Jiraiya nods and heads to the kitchen. Orochimaru hears him flicking the light switch in the kitchen, but sees no light.

“It’s still not fixed, Orochi.”

He clicks his tongue and tries the hall. Nothing.

“Either the power is disconnected from this property entirely, or there are issues with the wiring. I am turning the circuit breaker off again, in case of the later. I doubt you would appreciate if your home suddenly burned down,”

“Eh, not really.”

“And your precious collection?”

“It’s sealed inside a fire resistant chest.”

Orochimaru snorts and heads for the front door.

“Goodnight, Jiraiya. Call an electrician in the morning.”

“Wait, you’re leaving me here? It’s cold, and I think the water is rusty!”

“I am sure you will survive one night, Jiraiya,” he drawls. “Do watch out for spiders. I hear they can live just about anywhere—even sealed spaces.”

Jiraiya follows him to the front door. “Can’t I just stay at your place again?”

“…”

He knows Jiraiya—he’s a freeloader by nature—and if Orochimaru doesn’t get him out of his hair soon, he’s going to have him mooching off of him for the foreseeable future. 

It happened once before, when they were younger. Much younger. Jiraiya’s family thought he ran away and begged Sarutobi-sensei to find him. Of course, Sensei already knew Jiraiya was staying at his genin apartment with him and stopped them both after practice the next day, firmly telling Jiraiya to go back home—to his adopted family—and that was the end of that. 

“Come on, Orochimaru—there’s no hot water here!”

“You are well acquainted with the bathhouses in the Steam District.”

“They’re closed by now—”

“Most open at eight hundred hours.”

“Orochi—”

“Jiraiya.”

“I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“Fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! Been busy with all those last minute holiday preparations. There was a bit of trouble getting this chapter to work too. Usually, when I don't know how to take things to the next step in the story, I just switch up locations or POVs. Had to try a combination of things in this chapter to get it sounding the way I wanted it to. Enjoy! 
> 
> Happy holidays to all!


	103. ‘Tamaya!’

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jiraiya sputters. “We were attacked, asshole!”
> 
> The other jōnin boo at them.
> 
> “You were attacked and you lost? _Both_ of you?!”
> 
> “Suspect.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! I'm finally back! 
> 
> I've got a tentative plan for the new year, in regards to my posting schedule. I was hoping to somehow go back to posting a new chapter everyday (like I did in September and October), but that was really hard and I'm honestly still feeling a little burned out. 
> 
> For the next couple weeks I'll probably be testing a few different posting schedules, unless something sticks right off the bat. When I decide I'll add it to the end of work notes.
> 
> Thanks for reading, everybody! (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)

Orochimaru considers himself a very deep sleeper, and as a shinobi that’s simply an unacceptable physiological trait to have. He may forgo sleep for days at a time to avoid risking himself in that vulnerable state, which is one reason he _infrequently_ suffers from _light_ bouts of insomnia. 

Tsunade insists he has chronic insomnia and should medicate while off mission and break the habits that cause his insomnia in the first place, through ‘mindfulness’, diet, and exercise. 

He, in response, politely (pointedly) reminded her they are _shinobi._

Shinobi do not do _diet and exercise._ He follows a strict training regimen that requires he consume an appropriate amount of proteins, carbohydrates, fats, vitamins, and minerals, to maintain his body’s ideal ratio of fat to muscle for peak chakra generation. 

His training regiment is nothing so mundane as _diet and exercise._ How civilian.

That being said, Orochimaru recognizes that an appropriate amount of sleep is crucial for maximizing chakra generation. For that reason, he sleeps better on missions—particularly those he spends with reliable teammates. And as _eventful_ as the border patrol was, he slept more during the three-month rotation than he did the six months before—out of necessity. He couldn’t afford to run low on chakra at a critical point, and there were many.

Orochimaru is almost glad he spent the last two mornings hungover—he slept well, if nothing else. He expects that had less to do with being drunk and more to do with sleeping in the same room as his former teammates. 

What matters is that he is already adequately rested for the mission in the morning. Instead he lies awake, visualizing the various scenarios that may arise in the morning when he faces Sensei, and listens to Jiraiya snoring from the living room couch. 

Orochimaru closes his eyes and yawns. It should be fine if he takes a quick nap… Jiraiya will wake him if anything happens.

…

He drifts for a while. 

…

Before dawn, Orochimaru feels the edge of the bed sink under the weight of someone else’s body. He mightn’t have paid it any attention—would have shrugged it off as Jiraiya attempting to sneak into bed with him. He only gave the brute a thin blanket and the couch, having no spare futon to offer him. 

Then there’s a crash from the living room, the sound of wood splintering, and Jiraiya swearing loudly. He flinches to the left.

A short tantō punctures the pillow next to his face and he rolls, scissoring his legs around the waist of his assailant. Blood trickles down his neck from a superficial wound as he rolls them off the bed, swiping a senbon out of the lining of the bedspread as he does. 

He jabs the needle into his attacker’s ear canal, feels the feedback from puncturing the tympanic membrane, and drives the needle deeper. Then he transforms his chakra nature and floods their brain with a burst of Lightning Release.

The body bucks and seizes beneath him before going abruptly limp.

Orochimaru has personally witnessed many shinobi survive a traumatic brain injury—but never has he known anyone to survive a Raiton to the temporal lobe.

He pulls the senbon out and wipes it on the front of the Root agent’s body armor, but does not remove the mask. He’s not interested in seeing the face of his would be killer. 

He exits the bedroom just as Jiraiya subdues the other Root agent, non-lethally. 

“You good?” Jiraiya pants, bare chest heaving, slick with sweat and splattered blood. He wipes his bloodied nose on his forearm, pectoral muscles rippling from tension. 

He nods. “You have a kunai in your stomach, Jiraiya.”

Jiraiya shrugs and yanks the tip of the blade out, tossing it on the floor nonchalantly. “Don’t worry! I’ve got abs of steel, Orochi.”

“I wasn’t worried,” he curtly replies. “Merely… _observing.”_

The brute preens, flexing his muscles until the wound weeps. Orochimaru rolls his eyes at him.

It isn’t uncommon for Root agents to coat their weapons in anti-coagulants. Blood loss will often kill a shinobi more surely than any poison. Combine the two and you have the most common killer in the shinobi world.

Either there was no such compound administered to the Root agent’s weapons—or Jiraiya is unaffected, thanks to the various toxin resistances he gained through his Sage training. 

“I’m surprised no one heard the commotion and came to investigate.” Jiraiya says. “Some neighbors you’ve got.”

“I have no neighbors in the immediate vicinity.” And the apartments are very well insulated.

“How’d you manage that?”

Danzō, he suspects, arranged it that way.

“What happened to the other guy?” he asks.

Orochimaru shows him the senbon in answer.

“Dead?”

“Obviously.”

Jiraiya shrugs and points. “I got that one alive. We can take him to T&I until the little snake can do something about the seal.”

Orochimaru hopes his student won’t have to deal with many more of Danzō’s Root agents or their seals. It won’t matter once he is dead, after all.

He hears a paper fuse ignite and Jiraiya swears again. Orochimaru doesn’t pause to check if the Root agents were outfitted with timed explosive tags—he should have known!

He primes a Futon to blast the balcony door out, but Jiraiya grabs him by the elbow before he can activate the technique, launching them both through the glass door instead. Jiraiya activates his Needle Jizō technique just before the shock wave from the explosion envelopes them, shielding them from the shrapnel and heat from the blast.

They hit the ground in a crouch and Jiraiya adjusts his hair around them as debris rains down around them. Shinobi evacuate the building in various states of undress, awakened by the explosions.

“Taamayaa!” someone shouts, like the explosions are fireworks and not a veritable assassination attempt.

“Fuck off with your ‘Tamaya!’ bullshit, Hibiki, you goddamn arsonist! This is your fault, isn’t it?!”

“Eh? Wait! I didn’t cause this, I swear!”

The explosions finally subside and Orochimaru watches as the roof collapses, and then the floor beneath it from the weight of the roof coming down. Oh dear.

“My brewing station!”

“Damn. Do you think they’ll cover this under insurance?”

“Is this everyone?”

“Oh, hey, Jiraiya! Looking fit, man…! Except for the blood… what kinky shit were you guys getting up to, huh?”

Jiraiya sputters. “We were attacked, asshole!”

The other jōnin boo at them.

“You were attacked and you lost? _Both_ of you?!”

“Suspect.”

“Reimburse us our losses, man!”

“This wouldn’t have happened if Tsunade-hime stayed over, again.”

“Again? What do you mean, _again?!”_

Orochimaru massages his temples.

“Hey, what happened to the attacker?”

“Dead.” He replies.

“Damn.”

“Do you think it was an Iwa assassin? Orochimaru-san did kick the Tsuchikage’s ass recently.”

Of course, that’s what Danzō wants them all to think. He eyes the shinobi who proposed the theory. Jiraiya crosses his arms.

“Nah,” Hibiki says. “Those were definitely Konoha tags. Look at all the fire; Iwa-nin are demolition experts. The building wouldn’t be burning—or standing—if this were them.”

“Speaking of fire… should we put it out or wait for the Fire Brigade?”

“…I say we let it burn. I want a settlement for property destruction.”

“…”

There’s a secondary explosion from another apartment unit and an eruption of smoke and fire spews out the side of the building.

“…I should probably keep all my bombs and paper tags sealed. Next time.”

“Hibiki—!”

“Goddamn arsonist—!”

“If the insurance guys at the Bureau write this off as self-sabotage and we have to pay, I’m going to beat your ass into the next century!”

Orochimaru sighs. “Jiraiya, how is your Suiton?”

“…I’m better at oil, honestly. I could summon Gamabunta?”

Orochimaru sighs, again. This is not how he wanted to begin today of all days.

The KKB and Fire Brigade attachment arrive and handle the burning apartments, along with two Anbu agents to take the statements of the gathered jōnin. Orochimaru recognizes one of the Anbu agents as Goburi, Danzō’s current pet agent. He scowls.

The Uchiha police force is equally unimpressed by the Anbu agents appearing and taking command. Domestic terrorism falls under their purview—not Anbu’s.

They begin by taking the statements of everyone but Orochimaru and Jiraiya, the only witnesses to the actual attack. Of course.

“For fuck’s sake…” Jiraiya grumbles. “We’re going to be stuck here all morning. What time is it?”

“Almost zero six hundred.”

Jiraiya groans and catches blood from his shallow stab wound on his thumb, swiping it across his thumb to summon a medium-sized toad with lemon yellow skin, neon green stripes, and hot pink cheeks. Orochimaru feels nauseous. Even his snakes wouldn’t want to eat this creature, for fear of the heartburn (or outright poisoning) it would cause.

“Morning, Hikigaeru-chan. Sorry to wake you up so early. Do you mind getting me a storage scroll from group C? Maybe number eleven?”

The toad covers its mouth with a webbed hand and yawns.

“C-11…? Yes, yes, Jiraiya-chan. Call for—” the toad yawns. “Call for Hikifūmi-chan in a moment. I’ll send her to the scroll repository…”

The toad reverse summons itself and Jiraiya scoots over to him, rubbing his scarred arms vigorously. Orochimaru glares when he tries to bump shoulders with him.

“Why’s it so cold?” he complains.

“It is December, Jiraiya,” he replies, eying the shallow stab wound on his abdomen. It really didn’t pierce beyond the brute’s abs. There’s no discoloration from contact poisoning either. Good. “Perhaps you should have worn more to bed?”

“It was stuffy in your apartment.”

Yes, he does tend to blast the heat when he’s there.

Jiraiya makes another bloody mark on his thumb and summons the toad called Hikifūmi. A bright red toad with a pink ribbon tied around her neck appears.

The toad opens her mouth and her tongue shoots out, flinging a bulky scroll into Jiraiya’s face. He catches it, but only just.

“Hmph!” the toad says and disappears. Jiraiya grumbles under his breath.

“Toads are nocturnal, are they not?”

Jiraiya shrugs. “It’s cold. They hate the cold.”

So do his snakes, Orochimaru thinks, but they would never treat _him_ so disrespectfully.

Jiraiya kneels and rolls the scroll open over the ground, activating several storage seals. He tosses a large gray hanten jacket his way and Orochimaru puts it on over his sleepwear—a purple nemaki robe with a repeated geometric pattern. 

Jiraiya winds a bit of gauze around his wound before partnering his baggy samue pants with a mismatched top. 

“Br,” he says, and tosses him a pair of geta. “I hope you have a backup stash somewhere, Orochi.”

“The lab.”

“Makes sense,” he nods. “So… what now?”

He smirks. 

“I wouldn’t worry, Jiraiya.” 

“I’m not worrying,” he says. “Just wondering.”

Fugaku arrives an hour later—and arrests him.

The warrant is issued by Uchiha Fushima himself—and the five signatures required in absence of the Hokage’s explicit approval come from the Inoshikachō trio, the head of the Aburame Clan (forged by Ryōma, he suspects), and Morino Michi from T&I. Orochimaru holds back a gleeful cackle.

“Uchiha-sama,” Goburi interrupts. “Under what grounds are you arresting Orochimaru?”

Fugaku looks Goburi up and down with his famous scowl—Wicked-Eyed Fugaku, indeed.

“That’s none of your business, Anbu.”

Goburi takes a threatening step forward and his partner holds him back.

“We haven’t finished taking the statements of the residents of this apartment block,” his partner says. “Please allow us to complete our work first, Uchiha-sama.”

Fugaku ignores the Anbu agent.

“Jiraiya, you were with Orochimaru when the incident occurred?”

“I was.”

Fugaku jerks his chin at Jiraiya. “He can answer any questions you might have, Anbu.” Then he slaps a set of chakra-suppressing handcuffs on him, and he genuinely glares at Fugaku. 

Orochimaru detests chakra-suppressing seals.

Goburi takes another step forward and a member of the KKB steps in, Sharingan blazing.

“This isn’t your jurisdiction, _Anbu-san.”_

Goburi steps back. 

“Tōma, Haru, with me.”

Two Uchiha break off from the rest and ‘escort’ him away. 

A shrill whistle sounds behind them. 

“Let’s hear it for the Hero of Kusanagi!”

The jōnin still waiting to be interviewed clap for him, and cheer. He raises his handcuffed hands to them and gives them all the finger. Their cheers grow louder and he has the most curious feeling in the pit of his stomach.

He hopes it's not indigestion.


	104. one last respite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Honōka!” he hisses, “That was very naughty!”
> 
> She laughs louder, and the tantō in the sheath on his back rattles.

Fugaku and his clansmen escort him to a blind turn that is nearer to the Hokage Residence than to the KKB headquarters and stop.

Fugaku forms the last seal for the shadow clone technique, and the summoned clone immediately uses henge to transform into himself. Orochimaru thinks it must be nice to have obedient shadow clones.

“Tōma, Haru; you saw nothing, right?”

The two Uchiha look at each other and shrug.

“Nothing unusual to report, Fugaku-san.”

“Nothing of _note,”_ the other says.

Fugaku rolls his eyes and turns on his heel, leading his transformed clone to the police station with the his two clansmen in tow.

“Fugaku,” Orochimaru says, holding his bound hands up. “Forgetting something?”

Fugaku glances back, lip twitching. “No.”

No?

Fugaku and his clansmen turn the corner without another word, and Orochimaru stares at the chakra suppressing cuffs. Are they perhaps expecting him to break out of the thick iron handcuffs with no chakra? He’s strong, but not that strong. He doubts even Jiraiya could do it.

Then the cuffs morph and his student giggles, even while remaining formless. Not formless—they’ve transformed into Sarutobi Kazuma. His student is likely disguised as one of the many weapons adorning his person. 

“Honōka!” he hisses, “That was _very_ naughty!”

She laughs louder, and the tantō in the sheath on his back rattles.

He’s hit by the sudden realization that the chakra suppressing handcuffs were not real—or not the genuine article, and that his chakra was most undoubtedly sealed for the brief duration his student posed as said handcuffs. The implications (the possibilities!) of being able to transform into any object and superimpose any fūinjutsu’s jutsu-shiki on herself are not lost on him. 

His student’s prowess with her transformation technique continues to astonish him.

He consults his internal clocks and judges they have just enough time to arrive at the Hokage’s private residence.

“Shall we?” he asks.

“Ready when you are, Sensei.”

Orochimaru takes to the rooftops and plots out his course. He wonders if Danzō won’t already be at the residence, waiting for them. The bastard seems to have finally realized the pot he’s been sitting in is rising to a boil—the question now is whether he thinks he can stand the heat, or if he has a plan to cool the water.

“Honōka, can you sense Danzō or the Hokage?” he asks.

“…” his student searches for a few seconds and he feels the tantō rattle in his sheath again. “No.”

He nods. There’s a genuine possibility that Danzō is waiting for them at their destination. 

“What will we do if he is there, Sensei?”

Orochimaru considers.

“Nothing. We will act as Sarutobi Kazuma and complete his usual duties and then leave, without blowing our cover.”

“We’ll just leave Hokage-sama…?”

“If we must.”

“I hope he’s not there.”

Orochimaru agrees. 

But if he’s not there, where is he? And what is he doing where they can’t see him? It’s immensely worrying.

“Will you be able to use your dōjutsu while in this form?”

“…”

“Honōka?”

“I can still see nexuses right now, so I think I can use Shinryūgan regardless of what my actual form is. But, in order to cross the barrier at the residence, I’ll have to hide my signature inside my nexus, which will cut off my chakra supply… and also muck up the transformation…” his student mutters. 

Oh dear.

“Ah!” his student exclaims. “I can just sync up our signatures. It shouldn’t matter if we both have Otter-san’s signature, right? It’s supposed to be impossible to copy another person’s signature, so even if the barrier is sensitive enough to tag us twice, it’ll just be Otter-san’s signature appearing twice.”

He considers. It’s possible the security detail will report any such blips, no matter how insignificant—especially if Danzō has ordered an increase in security. And yet, they may just shrug off such a duplication. If there are multiple barriers and wards, which he expects there are, it’s possible the signatures crossing the threshold will already have multiple readings.

He knows Atsushi—Yamanaka Daichi—would walk across the boundary line at his lab often enough. Before Daichi became his intern, he used the antiquated self-recording scrolls of the Uzushio style to track guests entering his lab—until Daichi filled an entire scroll in a single day with his insistent pacing. After that he switched to the clunky computers that occupy the lab now. They are not as precise, but film is much less expensive—and when certain individuals approach his lab and notice the lack of wards and seals, they tend to… let down their guard.

Orochimaru drops into the narrow alley next to the Hokage Residence and heads for the side entrance, as Kazuma coached him to. He lets himself in. No alarms blare—that he knows of. Honōka remains silent.

“Are you able to sense Sarutobi-sensei now?” he asks when he’s sure they are quite alone. He doesn't speak Danzō's name. Honōka would warn him if he were in the vicinity, in any case.

“Yes. Top floor, west-facing wall…” Honōka pauses, and he feels the sword and sheath on his back sag. “Sensei… Hokage-sama doesn’t look… doesn’t feel so good.”

His stride lengthens and Honōka shocks him with a slight nature change to her base chakra. Another Anbu agent appears and they both regard each other in silence.

This agent wears a mask with red designs over the eyes and under the rodent like nose.

His student uses her chakra to pulse out an electrifying message in tap code, and he winces behind the Otter mask.

_‘Anbu Rabbit. Otter has crush on Rabbit.’_

Oh dear. He shuffles his feet and cedes the way for this 'Anbu Rabbit'.

“In a hurry, Otter?”

“I…”

Anbu Rabbit crosses her arms.

“Go on, the Hokage—your father—is doing a little better today.”

A ‘little’ better? She makes it sound like the Hokage is ill… which Kazuma did not mention. Of course, having learned all about Danzō’s machinations, Kazuma may believe that whatever damage Danzō has inflicted upon his father is reversible.

He nods uncertainly at Anbu Rabbit and heads up to the Hokage Suite, where Sarutobi-sensei is undoubtedly staying.

Orochimaru has obviously been in the Hokage residence before, but it’s been years, and he sees the evidence of small renovations here and there. It hardly looks like the same building. He still manages to reach the family suite without running into anyone else.

“Biwako-obā-san is on the other side of this wall, Sensei.” Honōka whispers. “She’s… sad.”

He steels himself and pushes the door open.

Biwako looks up, expression drawn. The skin beneath her eyes is dark from lack of sleep.

“Kazuma…” Biwako begins. “Son of mine,” she tries, voice shaking. “Come, sit with me for a moment.”

He does as told, shoulders stiff. Biwako reaches for his mask and he freezes, but she removes it without difficulty—or surprise. Honōka must have wrangled Kazuma’s cooperation before Fugaku brought her to him.

He stares at the removed mask. Is it a genuine article Honōka brought with her, or is she somehow able to separate parts of her transformation? Logic tells him the latter is impossible, but experience reminds him that ‘impossible’ is just a word in the dictionary—a word that his student is determined to discredit.

“Kazuma, look at me.”

He obeys. Biwako draws him in for a hug that he woodenly accepts.

“I know you don’t want to accept it, but your father is _sick.”_

“Rabbit said he was doing better today,” he says in Kazuma’s exact voice, letting a touch of accusation slip into his tone.”

Biwako looks away. “Sometimes, when a person nears the end of a long battle, they will have… one last _respite,_ before the end.”

He stands abruptly, taking his mask back from Biwako.

“Kazuma!” she pleads, reaching for his hand. “Please, just sit with him, for five minutes! I know… I know he hasn’t been himself lately, but he’s still your father!”

Ah, Orochimaru thinks. Kazuma has been in denial of his father’s condition then. He looks at Kazuma’s Otter mask again, but does not put it back on. He’s glad Kazuma has always affected a rather stony countenance, despite the softness he carries in his heart.

A conflict of character, one might say—a carefully constructed shield, another might reason.

“I…” he says, haltingly, “I’ll sit with him.”

Biwako looks relieved.

“Do you want me to join you?”

He shakes his head, slowly.

Biwako straightens and stands. “I’ll be in the kitchen. Is there anything you would like to eat before you go?”

He shakes his head again.

“Right… I hope you’re taking care of yourself, Kazuma—you can’t live off soldier pills and meal replacements forever.”

 _“Okā-san,”_ he whines. Biwako chuckles and thumps him on the shoulder, hard. There’s the Biwako he knows and occasionally misses. 

“Alright… good luck, Kazuma- _chan_.”

He rubs his arm when she leaves, feeling guilty for having so thoroughly fooled her. He’s going to have words with Kazuma after this—his mother has been having a rough time of this and Kazuma has clearly done nothing to help.

“Honōka?” he asks. “Have you checked on Sarutobi-sensei?”

Silence.

“Honōka?”

…

He panics. The blade and sheath rattle comfortingly.

“Sorry, Sensei. I was looking at Hokage-sama.”

“And?” what did she find?

“I think Danzō used Kotoamatsukami on the Hokage so many times it started overwriting previous attempts rather than actual memories. It’s a huge tangled mess now, and his mind is confused by the gaps and inconsistencies—it’s like his mind is rejecting the genjutsu with all its might…”

And losing.

“Can you remove it?”

“I can, but I need a distraction. Hokage-sama is still lucid enough to recognize mental intrusions.”

“He noticed you?” he tries not to let his alarm get the better of him, again. 

He is the one who decided his student would be fully capable of handling the Hokage, and he _does_ have every confidence in Honōka’s ability to slither her way through Sarutobi-sensei’s mind. 

However, while he hasn’t noticed many of Honōka’s previous attempts against himself, that had less to do with his student being stealthy and more to do with the absolute trust he puts in both her abilities and her integrity.

“He did. I convinced him he was remembering a conversation we had at tea.”

“You are _brazen,_ child,” he informs her, then asks, “you need a distraction?”

“He’s tired,” she says. “I don’t think he can focus both on holding a conversation with his son and fending off a mental intrusion.”

“You don’t think he will prioritize the latter?”

“I can be a very convincing echo.”

“Yes, I suppose so.” 

His student’s memory recall is _rather_ spectacular.


	105. old fool

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Hiruzen, have you eaten too many manjū, perhaps?”_  
>    
> _Hiruzen continues gasping and wheezing, agonizing pain like nothing he’s ever felt before radiating through his chest. Danzō leans down until his lips are right next to his ear._
> 
> _“Remember this, old fool. Orochimaru will kill you if you don’t kill him first.”_

Sensei opens the door to the Hokage’s personal room and enters as the unmasked Sarutobi Kazuma. She thinks Sensei might feel nervous about his sensei seeing through his disguise, but Honōka thinks it’s very unlikely.

Sarutobi Hiruzen is _tired._

Nothing appears to be wrong with his chakra—not at first glance. His physical chakra, his yang chakra, is fine. His spiritual chakra, though…

Honōka can’t sense spiritual— _yin_ —chakra. She thinks most people can’t—it’s one of the qualities of spiritual chakra, and it’s that quality that makes genjutsu so difficult to detect.

However, the Uzushio tags they were given at the Academy determined their innate chakra ratios not by being able to see or sense their spiritual chakra, but by measuring it against their physical chakra, and other factors.

She can do the same for the Hokage now, and she can tell that his chakra is completely out of balance. If she were to make a guess (an educated one), she would say the Hokage is suffering from a severe depletion of his spiritual chakra.

Sensei sits in the chair next to the Hokage’s bedside.

Sarutobi Hiruzen blearily opens his eyes.

“Kazuma…?” he rasps, and Honōka’s heart falls. He sounds so… old. So _feeble._

Sensei grits his teeth.

“Good morning, Otō… san.”

Sarutobi’s expression softens and he lets out a gravelly chuckle. It doesn’t sound like there’s fluid on his lungs—yet, but it might be coming. He’s clearly been lying in bed for quite some time. That can’t be good for him.

“How was class?” he asks, and Sensei falters, baffled, for a moment.

 _‘A.S.U.M.A.’_ she taps out.

“Otō-san… are you asking about Asuma…?”

The Hokage frowns, wrinkles deepening across his brow. Frustration colors his aura.

“Ah, yes. Asuma is in the Academy now, of course… You know, a little girl beat him up at the entrance exam?” he chuckles.

Sensei laughs, lightly.

“He said. What was her name again?”

“Hm… what _was_ it? It’s a good name, you know?”

Sensei waits. He’s trying to give her an opening. If Hokage-sama is already thinking about her, he won’t be so cautious of her appearing in his subconscious mind, she thinks.

“Ah,” he says. “Tsunemori Honōka. Keep your eyes on that one, Asuma. I haven’t seen anyone quite like her. Tobirama-sensei would have been thrilled to teach her, I think.”

She jumps in.

Honōka watches Tobirama declare Sarutobi Hiruzen his successor— _despite his **teammate,** Shimura Danzō, being the truly worthy one_. Really, how could Tobirama-sensei be so blind—thinking him, of all people, worthy—

She cuts off the compulsion, disgusted.

Shimura Danzō isn’t even Sarutobi Hiruzen’s teammate! Hiruzen’s teammates were Koharu and Homura _(sheep,_ she thinks. _Couch ninja,_ she calls them), and Danzō’s teammates were Akimichi Torifu and Uchiha Kagami. Her blood boils.

They worked on that one last mission together, but no other. Senju Tobirama kept them apart for as long as he could.

“Saru, Tobirama says, crossing his arms. “Rivalry between friends and fellow shinobi is fine, but your relationship with Danzō… you realize it’s becoming something else, don’t you?”

“What do you mean, Sensei?” Sarutobi hedges.

“It’s becoming an **_obsession,_** Saru. Stop feeding it.”

“I’m not!”

“But Danzō is. Tell him it must end. It’s not… healthy.”

“Are you sure about the boy, Hiruzen?” Danzō asks. “You know what his parents were—”

Hiruzen grabs Danzō by his kimono collar and shakes him. “I won’t hear anymore of this! Yashagorō is not his parents—”

**_Demons._ **

“Saru…” Tobirama says. There’s blood on his face. 

That’s never a good sign, Hiruzen thinks. Especially not when he comes to him in the middle of the night, alone.

“What is it, Sensei?”

“…You still intend on becoming Tsunade’s teacher when she graduates?”

“Yes, of course, Sensei! I lost the bet with—er, I promised Hashirama-sama I would teach his granddaughter for him. I won’t go back on my word!”

Tobirama smirks, but the fond look is amiss on his blood spattered face.

“There’s a child I need you to look out for. He’s an orphan now, but I expect he’ll have no trouble passing the Academy exam with Tsunade. I understand you’re set on mentoring the Ogata clan’s adopted heir as well. Make the three of them your genin team.”

“I understand, Sensei. What is the boy’s name?”

“Enoshima Yashagorō—”

“You know what his parents were—”

Monsters, murderers… **_Demons!_**

“I understand, Sensei,” Hiruzen repeats, jaw set, eyes determined. “I won’t let you down.”

Monsters, murderers, **_demons!_**

Honōka rips through the web of lie, panting.

Murderers—Enoshima Shion and Enoshima Azusa—remain.

“Sensei…” a young boy with silky black hair whispers as he wipes graffiti off a grave for the third time that month. “I have been thinking…”

“Thinking about what, Yashagorō-kun?” Hiruzen asks. He’s picking broken glass off the path leading to the grave.

“I would like to change my name.”

Hiruzen chuckles. “Like Jiraiya did?”

“Yes… something like that.”

“Have you decided on one?”

“Orochimaru… if you think it appropriate.”

“Orochimaru, huh? A fearsome name it’ll make some day. I like it!”

“I hear another one of your students _found_ a summoning domain and signed a contract, coincidentally.” Danzō says.

Hiruzen continues signing paperwork.

“Snakes, Hiruzen? Is that wise—everyone knows snakes are… notoriously _sly_ creatures.”

So are shinobi, Hiruzen thinks.

“Are they?” he replies, grip tightening on his calligraphy brush. A drop of ink spatters his paperwork. He should switch to pens—much less mess. “Is that what everyone thinks of snakes?”

“Yes.”

Sly, dishonest creatures, snakes. **_Evil._**

His student. Cunning, secretive… the child born of the union of inhuman, monstrous— _ **evil**_ —parents.

She screams, and the glass shatters. 

The greasy— _filthy!_ —residue of Shimura Danzō clings to everything, and she wants it **gone**.

“Let me have him for one month, Hiruzen, old friend… I’ll set him straight for you…”

Her eyes burn with unshed tears as she latches onto memory after memory, burning out the influences of Kotoamatsukami, working her way to the tangled mess at the center of it all, and Honōka wonders what sort of command is at the blackened core.

What command tipped the scales and caused the tower of cards to fall over…? What did Danzō order Sarutobi Hiruzen to do, to become? Why is the Hokage fighting with all his might now? And what is worth defying the ultimate genjutsu—risking mind, heart, and soul? 

She’s almost afraid to _look,_ to _see,_ but knows she _must._

The tangle unravels before her. 

“Orochimaru and his student plan to usurp your power and your position, Hiruzen. You must kill them before they do. They are traitors to the leaf.”

She’s not surprised Danzō would go so far—especially after his attempts to get rid of them during the border patrol all failed.

Hiruzen looks up from his paperwork and takes a long draw on his pipe. He breathes out slowly. 

“Usurp me?” Hiruzen snorts. “Orochimaru won’t need to go so far, Danzō. After this war is over, I plan to step down. I’ve already made arrangements with the daimyō for Orochimaru to be my successor.”

Honōka gapes inside the memory. Kotoamatsukami failed? Or did Danzō mess up somehow? Danzō looks taken aback. 

“Orochimaru…?” he scowls. “What about Jiraiya, or the Senju-hime?”

Hiruzen goes back to his paperwork, pipe held aloft in the other hand. He really did switch to pens after.

“Tsunade laughed in my face the last time I asked her, and Jiraiya always finds a convenient excuse to leave the village before I have the chance to pin him down for a serious talk.”

“What about Jiraiya’s student, Namikaze? He is—”

“Young?” Hiruzen cuts in. “Perhaps Minato would be ready, if this war continued for another ten years. However, I don’t intend to let it go on for that long, Danzō. I have already begun talks with the new Kazekage. Unlike the Third Kazekage, he is quite… business-minded.”

Danzō balks. Honōka feels like giggling. Hiruzen continues signing papers without looking up, and the ember in his pipe goes out.

“And I have every confidence that Orochimaru will do everything in his power to diffuse the situation with Iwa—and if it still comes to a battle, with Minato at his side, he will not lose.”

“Orochimaru and his student plan to usurp—”

“Rubbish, Danzō.”

Danzō glares and focuses his greasy aura.

“They are planning your assassination as we speak, Hiruzen.”

Hiruzen’s hands begin to shake.

“Nonsense, Danzō. They can hardly ‘plot’ anything while on border patrol.”

“Where better to plot against you, but where you cannot reach them?”

“No,” Hiruzen says. There’s a dreamlike look in his eyes now. “Orochimaru would never assassinate me. We disagree on many things, but he would not want me dead because of it. I know my student, Danzō.”

“Do you really, Hiruzen? Do you _really_ know Orochimaru?”

“…” Hiruzen licks his lips. “Honōka-kun. Honōka-kun knows him very well. Better than I expected her to. She would know if my student were… slipping. She would _know,_ and she would tell me.”

“The girl, Hiruzen? Haven’t you realized by now? She’s a Kumo spy. How else would an unknown civilian child pass the Academy Exam? Look how different she looks, compared to her ‘family’? They would have to be brainwashed to truly believe ‘Tsunemori Honōka’ is their daughter.”

Hiruzen’s entire body is trembling now. Honōka thinks she feels her own teeth clattering—but it’s just the memory.

“That’s preposterous!”

“It’s true. Tsunemori Honōka is a Kumo spy, and Orochimaru is planning your assassination… he’s in league with Kumo.”

“No.”

“Tsunemori Honōka—”

 ** _“No!”_** Hiruzen shouts and sweeps his paperwork off the desk. “It’s not true!”

He stands and reaches for a kunai. Danzō tenses and she thinks the Hokage is going to attack him.

Pain suddenly rips through her chest, and she almost ejects from the memory, fearing injury to herself. She hangs on, somehow.

Hiruzen crumples on top of his desk, gasping for breath.

He’s… 

He’s having a heart attack!

The tension in Danzō’s shoulders releases and he smirks.

“Hiruzen, have you eaten too many manjū, perhaps?”

Hiruzen continues gasping and wheezing, agonizing pain like nothing he’s ever felt before radiating through his chest. Danzō leans down until his lips are right next to his ear.

“Remember this, old fool. Orochimaru **_will_** kill you if you do not kill him first.”

Danzō leaves—or fades away like he was never there to begin with. She supposes that’s the closest she’ll ever come to witnessing genjutsu first hand.

She knows the Hokage does not die from this episode, but she waits for his rescue, growing more and more enraged as time passes.

Biwako eventually discovers him, barging into the office with an anguished cry.

“Hiruzen! _Hiruzen!”_ she shouts. “What did you eat, drink, or smoke?!”

He’s still clutching his pipe, but cannot speak over the tight pain in his chest. Biwako dips her finger into the ash filled bowl, but finds nothing amiss with the contents. There aren’t any signs of food or drink in the office.

She uses the Mystical Palm Technique next and begins crying.

“You old fool, Hiruzen! Tsunade told you your arteries were hardening from excessive smoking!”

Color returns to the Hokage’s face, thanks to Biwako’s treatment.

“Biwako, my love…! He’s going to kill me!”

Biwako stiffens. 

“Who, dear? Who’s going to kill you?!”

_“Orochimaru…!”_

Honōka takes a deep breath and _pulls_.


	106. sesame seed mochi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “…Imagine a powerful genjutsu has been cast on someone for years and years, over and over again. They shouldn’t be able to avoid it, or fight it, but they do—because even as their reality is being overwritten with lies, something more powerful than the genjutsu is struggling to break free.”

Hiruzen sits at a table in the back corner of Ichiban Manjū. A familiar little girl sits in the seat across from him, swinging her legs absentmindedly.

“Honōka-kun?” he asks. He looks at his steaming cup of tea and sesame seed mochi. Despite having ‘manjū’ in the name, there are many types of desserts served at the little tea shop/bakery.

Honōka looks up and meets his gaze directly and he thinks, how strange—Honōka-kun never does that.

“Hokage-sama?”

He’s feeling…out of sorts.

“My apologizes, Honōka-kun, I seem to have gotten lost in thought. What were we talking about?”

Her expression softens for a fraction of a second, and then hardens. 

Such an expression would not be unusual on Biwako, and seeing it on a child is odd, indeed. However, it’s the unimpressed look she sometimes wears when she means to scold him on his ‘poor’ education policies. It’s most similar to the expression she affected when he tried to defend the current curriculum’s kunoichi classes. He lost that argument, and Biwako scoffed at him when he tried to ask her for her opinion on the matter. 

“We were talking about Shimura Danzō, Hokage-sama.”

He opens his mouth to respond and finds that he’s not entirely sure what she means. Why would they be talking about Shimura Danzō? He hasn’t heard from the man in years.

_“It’s becoming an **obsession,** Saru. Stop feeding it.”_

Oh, he thinks, that’s not quite right, is it?

He looks at the little girl sitting before him and thinks.

“Honōka-kun, you’re supposed to be on border patrol with your sensei.”

Orochimaru. He placed them together because, despite their many differences, they are more similar still.

And yet, he feels like he’s missing something. Why is he sitting here having tea with his student’s student?

The girl is gifted, special even—but he is not her sensei, and he is the Hokage. Does he really have time for this? 

“Our rotation is over, Hokage-sama.”

He looks out the window. The lush green leaves and full blooms on the potted flowers outside the tea shop tell him it is still the height of summer.

Yet, that can’t be true either.

_Kai!_

Honōka reaches out and grips his hand.

“Don’t. Your spiritual chakra is depleted right now. If you keep reaching for it, you’ll just damage your middle dantian.”

He frowns and Honōka points to a point at the center of her chest—level with her heart—to elaborate. He’s never heard of a so called ‘middle dantian’ before. Or any other dantian.

“Did you know, Hokage-sama? I have a dōjutsu called Shinryūgan. Sensei told me I could name it, since it’s new. It lets me see inside a person’s liminal space, or their subconscious mind. I talked to Fugaku-oji-san and Inoichi-san about it, and we all agreed the liminal space exists between body and mind. The soul.

“It hides behind the lower dantian, which generates physical chakra. I thought spiritual chakra must generate there as well, but since I can’t actually see spiritual chakra, I’ve been thinking it might generate somewhere else instead. Like the middle dantian.”

He rubs his chest, where a phantom pain lives. He had a heart attack recently, and, smoking aside, it was rather unexpected—frightening, even. Honōka nods.

“You believe the weakening of this ‘middle dantian’ caused my heart attack?” he asks.

“Not weakening, exactly—being overburdened.”

“And why would it become overburdened, Honōka-kun?”

“…Imagine a powerful genjutsu has been cast on someone for years and years, over and over again. They shouldn’t be able to avoid it, or fight it, but they do—because even as their reality is being overwritten with lies, something more powerful than the genjutsu is struggling to break free.

“Uchiha Madara once said that genjutsu is the ability to rewrite reality—to make one’s own dreams the new ‘truth’. He said the most powerful genjutsu were rooted in the user’s beliefs, but that an opponent could overturn any genjutsu—even the most detailed and cunning—with a foundation of unshakable belief and determination.

“Hokage-sama… You never stopped believing in Orochimaru-sensei—it’s the one thing Danzō couldn’t take from you, no matter how hard he tried. Please remember that trust when you wake up, Hokage-sama.”

When he wakes up? Right, this is all inside his head, isn’t it…?

He frowns at the girl sitting in front of him. She stirs her tea with her finger.

_Who…?_

“Who are you?” he asks. 

The girl’s expression drops, and she kicks her legs under the table dejectedly. Tears glisten in strange, tricolor eyes—blue irises, red pupils, and a vertical golden strike through the red. He’s seen nothing like them before, he thinks.

Then she looks up with a brilliant gap-toothed smile and dimples on her cheeks.

“Tsunemori Honōka-desu. It was nice meeting you, Hokage-sama! Please be well.”

He blinks and the little girl disappears, leaving him alone in an oddly familiar tea shop. 

It’s Ichiban Manjū, he thinks—and the sesame seed mochi are delicious.

He stares at the steaming cup of tea across from him and the plate of kōhaku manjū and smiles. He wonders what they were celebrating.

Honōka opens her eyes, disoriented. She had to draw on the chakra she stockpiled from Tenko-sama to get through that massive undertaking. 

She wipes her eyes with a sniffle and freezes.

She’s lying on the floor—herself once more.

Honōka jolts upright and checks the building. Biwako is closest to them, in the kitchen still, she thinks. They haven’t been discovered.

“Sensei?”

Sensei glances at her from his place at the Hokage’s side. His hands glow from the Mystical Palm Technique and she jumps up.

“Did Hokage-sama have another heart attack?!”

 _“Another_ heart attack?!” Sensei hisses back. He moves his hands over the Hokage’s chest—over his heart. “What do you mean, ‘another heart attack’?”

“He had one, recently, I think. Danzō tried to use Kotoamatsukami on the Hokage, again, but Hokage-sama fought it for as long as he could.”

Sensei nods and concentrates on monitoring the Hokage.

“It is not a heart attack,” he says. “I am uncertain what it is…”

She looks at the Hokage’s lower dantian, at the rhythmic crest every seven rotations.

“I think he’s just sleeping, very deeply. He was fighting the affects of Kotoamatsukami for so long that it tired out his middle dantian.”

Sensei raises an eyebrow at her.

“Middle dantian?”

She points to her chest. “Middle,” then to her forehead, “upper,” and finally her belly, “lower dantian.”

Sensei nods and asks no further questions. 

“What do we do now, Sensei?” she asks.

He considers.

“Transform us back into Sarutobi Kazuma. I will convince Biwako to call for Tsunade.”

Honōka nods. They can’t leave the Hokage vulnerable now that they’ve finally saved him from Danzō. She transforms them back into Kazuma.

Sensei takes a deep breath and runs for the door, slamming it open.

“Okā-san!” he shouts. “…Okā-san…!”

Biwako appears out of shunshin, clutching her chest. Sensei’s shouting startled her.

“What is it, Kazuma? Is it your father?”

“I… we were talking, and he… he stopped responding.”

Biwako pushes her way into the room and hurriedly checks her husband over, frowning.

“Hiruzen?” she tries, squeezing his hand. He doesn’t respond.

“What’s wrong with him?” Sensei as Kazuma asks. The frustration he projects is genuine.

“I… I’m not sure.”

“Shouldn’t we… shouldn’t we call for Tsunade-sama?”

Biwako bites her lip.

“You know your father doesn’t want to get Tsunade-hime involved.”

“He’s unconscious, Okā-san! What he, what Otō-san wants doesn’t matter right now!”

“Kazuma!” Biwako scolds. “We must respect your father’s decisions—!”

“Okā-san, I don’t want him to die! I am—I’m not ready.”

“…” Biwako looks down at her husband and the wrinkles on her face slowly smoothen out. “I don’t want him to die either, you know…”

“Then?”

She nods. “We’ll call for Tsunade.”

Honōka breathes a silent breath of relief as Sensei heads for the balcony door.

“I’m… going ahead.” Sensei says. “You’ll stay with him, won’t you?”

Biwako nods.

“Be quick about it, Kazuma. I trust Tsunade, but I don’t want… I don’t want anyone else finding out about this.”

She synchronizes their signatures as they leave the Hokage residence and make for the hospital. 

“Sensei, hold the transformation. I’m getting Minato and Ottā-san.”

“Honōka—”

She separates from Sensei, transforming into her Madara form, and Sensei holds on to the transformation. She knew he could do it!

 _“Honōka—!”_ he tries again.

“I’ll be right back!”

He scruffs her.

“No, I do not think so.”

“But _Sensei_ —”

“How close are Minato and Kazuma?”

“They’re both at Minato’s apartment.”

“I suppose you thought having Minato’s Hiraishin would be ideal for transferring Sarutobi-sensei?”

She twitches her whiskers, and Sensei puts her on his shoulder. She obediently morphs into her snake form and hides in the collar of Kazuma’s cloak.

“It is a good idea,” he says, and flickers towards Minato’s apartment, much faster than she could have. She holds on tightly, clenching her mouthful of sharp little snake teeth.

She feels a whisper of something, but they’re moving so fast it’s hard to tell where it came from. 

Sensei barges in through the balcony sliding door and Minato jumps up from his spot on the floor, fūinjutsu notes scattered all around him. Kazuma appears from the kitchen—feet planted, fists clenched. 

“My fa—the Hokage,” he asks, “how is he—how… how did the mission go?”

She separates from Sensei, and he lets the transformation drop when she does.

“He is unconscious, but physically unharmed. I convinced your mother to let me call for Tsunade.” Sensei says. “I would like you and Minato to take over for me, and transfer Sarutobi-sensei to a secure location, under Tsunade’s watch.”

“He… his memories?” Kazuma asks.

Sensei doesn’t know. They didn’t discuss it, so it falls on her to answer him.

“There was a lot of damage,” she says. “He doesn’t know anything about Danzō’s recent activities, and as far as he can remember, the last time he regularly spoke with Danzō was fifteen years ago. He knows he must be wrong though, because he hasn’t forgotten that Danzō is on his council. He also remembers several suspicions that Senju Tobirama voiced before his death in the First Shinobi World War.

“He remembers Sensei. He remembers Jiraiya-san and Tsunade-san. He remembers Biwako-obā-san and you and Asuma. Sometimes, details about when and where might become a little… mixed up. Hokage-sama will need to get caught up on the war, the battlefronts, and the politics surrounding it all. Danzō has been controlling everything these last three months.”

Honōka stops. He’s been pulling strings since long before the three-month border patrol, but everyone knows that already. There’s no point in discussing everything that the Hokage won’t be aware of when he wakes up.

“He… Hokage-sama doesn’t remember me at all, anymore. Danzō convinced him I was a spy Sensei sourced from Kumo. I didn’t want him to keep thinking Sensei betrayed him, but I also didn’t want him to forget anything else about Sensei. By removing his memories of me… the lies layered over Sensei fell apart.”

And now there will never be another tea shop meeting between her and Hokage-sama. 

Sensei squeezes her shoulder. He does not hug her, but his feelings are the mental equivalent.

“Thank you,” he says, and, “I am so sorry, Honōka.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, kōhaku manjū are pink and white manjū that are eaten usually during celebrations and stuff. If you remember from way back when, Honōka called her snake Kohaku. Kohaku's name means amber, where as kōhaku in kōhaku manjū means red and white. Red and white are colors of victory in Japan, hence why this particular type of manjū is considered celebratory.


	107. You can’t make omelets without cracking some eggs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Orochimaru thinks it’s about time he did some pruning—and if he has to cut off a few limbs to remove the mistletoe from the mighty tree that bears the leaves of his beloved village, so be it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a horse, in the HOSPITAL!

Minato and Kazuma leave to enlist Tsunade’s help in securing the Hokage, and Sensei raids Minato’s closet for some jōnin blues to change into, because he’s still wearing his pajamas and an oversized hanten jacket that Honōka thinks belongs to Jiji. 

Unlike Jiji, Minato and Sensei are almost the same height and weight, so they probably wear the same size. Much more practical.

While Sensei searches for a clean set of clothes and mentally expresses his dissatisfaction with Minato’s general lack of housekeeping skills, Honōka sits on the living room floor and expands her sensory-field.

She felt a whisper of _something_ earlier, but they were moving so fast and it’s still difficult for her to get a solid read on faint chakra signatures while in motion. She takes the time to center herself and concentrates.

Honōka reaches out for Kakashi and Ryōma first, since they’re both in Akimichi-chō under Torifu’s watchful eye. Kakashi is irritated, but that’s not surprising—he really doesn’t like Ryōma, and is just a _little_ bit afraid of him. 

Kakashi also wanted to go with her and Sensei on today’s mission, but Sensei told him no and grounded him at Torifu’s place for safekeeping.

Sensei will probably drop her off at Torifu’s place, too, after he finds something to wear. She’s completed her task for the day and Sensei already warned her he would knock her out and bury her (somewhere safe!) at the first sign of trouble, which is why she didn’t mention the odd blip on her radar earlier. She didn’t want to get buried! 

He doesn’t trust her to stay out of the way at all anymore; not after what happened last time—which she thinks is unfair.

They were fine—no one even died! Well, no one died and _stayed_ dead.

However, and despite how much she wants to stay with Sensei, Honōka agreed she would go back to Torifu’s after her part was complete. He made her promise when he dropped her off at Minato’s place last night—otherwise he would have gone on his own and brought the Hokage to her instead!

She doesn’t doubt that Sensei could have done that, given the Hokage’s current condition… and for that same reason Honōka thinks it was much kinder of them to have approached the Hokage as someone familiar and non-threatening. Who knows how Hokage-sama might have reacted to his supposedly ‘traitorous’ student appearing before him?

Honōka shakes her head and tweaks her version of the Second Hokage’s Shōkyo technique, tuning her ambient frequency to resonate just slightly off key, first with an anti-clockwise rotation (most people have a clockwise rotation) and then clockwise. It allows her to more precisely judge chakra density by population density—to ‘see’ if a densely populated area has an unusual ratio of ninjutsu users gathered in one place without becoming overwhelmed by individual signatures.

Sensei stomps out of Minato’s bedroom in gray sweatpants and a black turtleneck with a stretched out collar. He balances a basket full of dirty laundry on his hip and pinches a pair of dusty shinobi sandals together with the other hand. She giggles and he gives her the stink eye.

“If I _ever_ have to clean up after you…”

“You won’t, Sensei. My apartment is NCO’d, as per lab protocol.” Neat, clean, and organized.

Sensei nods appreciatively. “As it should be.”

He steps into the combined bath and laundry room and lets out a frustrated noise.

“There are paint brushes in the _sink.”_

Honōka giggles again. She knows.

“This is all Jiraiya’s fault.”

She bites her tongue to keep from laughing and goes back to concentrating. Months of border patrol got her a little too used to sensing distant targets while blocking out nearby signatures. Doing the opposite feels weird.

Sensei starts up the washer and cleans out the sink so he can wash his hands, then call out to her as he organizes the junk and knickknacks in the bathroom cupboard.

“Has Tsunade collected Sensei yet?”

She zeroes in on Tsunade at the hospital, with Biwako and Kazuma on hand and Hokage-sama with them but still unconscious.

“Biwako-obā-san and Ottā-san are with Tsunade-san and Hokage-sama at the hospital,” she reports.

She frowns and searches for Minato, stomach dropping.

“Sensei! I can’t find Minato!”

“Do not panic, Honōka. He has likely gone ahead to the Senju compound to place a Hiraishin transfer seal. It is the most secure location after the Hokage Residence.”

She calms down. Stupid barrier seals and warded spaces. 

She reaches for their connection and is reassured when she can feel Minato’s presence, even though she can’t tell where it’s coming from, exactly.

It’s perplexing, but she’ll wonder about it later—Danzō just crawled out of his lair, couch ninja in tow. 

“Sensei! Danzō is heading to the hospital!”

Something glass smashes on the bathroom tile, and Sensei appears next to her in a flicker.

“You are certain he is going to the hospital?”

“Yes, Sensei! He has Mitokado Homura and Utatane Koharu with him.”

“Who else?”

She frowns. She doesn’t think he has anyone else with him, but that makes very little sense, so she double checks—triple checks.

Her stomach drops, again. She doesn’t know if she’ll be able to pick it back up, this time.

Three previously stable pockets of shinobi signatures are on the move.

The Jōnin Standby Station, the Chūnin Barracks, and the Interception Division.

That flickering _something_ is back again, and it feels like it’s coming from beneath Konoha. 

_Something_ is moving underground—writhing just beyond her sensory range; hidden from her and every other sensor type in Konoha. She can almost feel the transmission lines from the various substations in Konoha now, can feel how they form a network of roots beneath her village.

 _Something,_ many somethings—or many _someones_ —is moving just outside her notice, tickling the edges of her senses. She feels sick.

“Sensei… I think Danzō is mustering a coup…!”

Orochimaru swears. He usually refrains from doing so in front of his student, but it does still happen. 

He looks at his student, at her horrified expression—at her blue and red eyes and the golden vertical slit that opened again when she stripped away the years of altered memories and lies from his Sensei’s mind.

It doesn’t seem to bother her, _much,_ this time—but he supposes the abrupt alteration has had time to heal, to settle, in the short time since it appeared. Something to consider at a later time.

“Call for Inoichi.” He orders.

“But—”

“It does not matter who hears now—only that Inoichi is informed so he can more privately instruct _our_ allies on their next move.”

She nods and tweaks her sensory-field, likely expanding it beyond any enemy sensory-fields to avoid being pinpointed, and blares out a coded message.

 _‘Prepare for battle,’_ she taps out. _‘The roots of yadorigi(mistletoe) are above ground.’_

He snorts at her cryptic message, and pats her on the head. 

Danzō is indeed like mistletoe; a parasitic _plant_ that leeches off larger trees.

He is a man who lives by sinking his roots into others so that he might benefit from their efforts and talents—a wretch who contributes almost nothing (and certainly nothing good) to the Village Hidden in the Leaves.

In fact, he has significantly stunted the growth of Konohagakure.

Orochimaru thinks it’s about time he did some pruning—and if he has to cut off a few limbs to remove the mistletoe from the mighty tree that bears the leaves of his beloved village, so be it.

You can’t make omelets without cracking some eggs, after all.


	108. skeletons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Fuck it,” Jiraiya whispers to himself. “When have I ever turned down an opportunity to go digging?”

The ‘Anbu’ agents keep the ruse going for another half hour, then abruptly dismiss themselves, leaving a very irked KKB squad to deal with the remaining witnesses. 

Jiraiya watches the agents flicker away with a growing sense of unease… either they weren’t expecting the Uchiha to ‘arrest’ Orochimaru, or they’re done buying time for something else.

He flags down Uchiha Yashiro, who scowls at him.

“Hey,” he says, “can I go now?”

Yashiro rolls his eyes at him but waves him on, throwing a “Get out of here, toad-face,” over his shoulder, before turning to yell at another jōnin attempting to enter the still smoldering apartment building. 

“Appreciate it, Yashiro!” he shouts and ditches the scene of the crime, like any good shinobi should. No one cheers for him when he leaves, though. 

What a tough crowd to please! But he’ll bitch about their lack of appreciation later, when Konoha isn’t on the brink of crisis. 

He briefly considers using a crude sensory technique he learned from the toads to scan the village, but scraps that idea. He sucks at it, for one, and would probably alert every sensor type worth their salt. Jiraiya doesn’t need that kind of attention—not right now.

Where to go, and what to do? Should he chase down the Root agents, or see if Orochimaru needs backup at the Hokage Residence? For all he knows, the Root agents are heading there themselves.

A sudden pulse of chakra breaks his train of thought and reverberates through his chest, bringing him to a skidding halt. He recognizes the signature as Orochi’s kid and tries to pinpoint her location—only to realize the futility of his endeavor.

The kid has _range._ Damn impressive range. Then he curses, having worked out the unfamiliar tap code.

_‘Prepare for battle; the roots of yadorigi are above ground.’_

Mistletoe? Is she talking about Danzō? That’s actually pretty clever! He waits another moment and feels the telltale hook of the Yamanaka’s Shindenshin no Jutsu.

 _“Listen up, everyone.”_ Shikaku says. _“This transmission is one way only, because of current chakra restraints—more on that later. Do not share this message with **anyone.** It’s already being transmitted to everyone who attended the meeting. If someone asks for clarification, do not answer them—better yet, play dumb.”_

Jiraiya snorts. Play dumb? Really, Shikaku? That’s his best advice?

_“For those of you unfamiliar with Tsunemori Honōka’s brand of tap code—prepare for battle. Danzō has appeared above ground and is making his move earlier than expected. Some of you may have already been called to action—do NOT draw attention to yourselves by refusing to mobilize. On the surface, it looks like Danzō is attempting a coup of his own making, but we are sorely lacking information. We need all of you involved in the counter-coup to keep your eyes open, in case he’s planning something else._

_“As for why we’re stuck on one-way transmissions… the usual equipment for enhancing the mind-body transmission technique was sabotaged. The damage doesn’t look recent, so it looks like Danzō planned for this eventuality. For all our allies that rely on sensitive equipment—double check your shit!”_

Jiraiya grits his teeth. He might have to go check out the Detection Division’s building. The last thing they need is the barrier surrounding Konoha to fail.

_“Also… these are the masks of Root agents Yoru and Hiru, also known as Yamanaka Yayoi and Asahiko. Do not engage. That is all.”_

The image of two mask wearing teenagers; one mask with a blue crescent moon on the forehead, the other with a hollow red circle. Jiraiya assumes Inoichi drew the image from their defected Root agent, Ryōma.

Jiraiya clicks his tongue. He still doesn’t know where he should go—where he’s needed most. He waits another minute, but Inoichi and Shikaku don’t contact him, so they must be prioritizing the repair of their sabotaged gear.

Jiraiya quietens his signature down to almost nothing—the best he can do without breaking the laws of chakra and everything right in the world—and uses his trusty Tōton Jutsu to fade from sight. 

He sets course for the Detection Division in central Konoha. If Danzō and his agents have been sabotaging equipment behind the scenes, the Detection Division and the nearby Intelligence Division (housing T&I, Analysis, and the Konoha Coroner’s Office) are all targets of interest.

That’s his plan; check all the important equipment and sensitive seals before everything goes to hell in a handbasket on this cold, sunny morning.

But, as luck would have it (fate?), the world conspires against him—once again!—and he just so happens to pass a substation the exact moment a dozen Root agents exit. He stops in his tracks and watches them leave, unaware of his presence.

He sucks in a deep breath and eyes the glorified tool shed they emerged from. A tool shed much too small to fit a dozen teenagers of various sizes.

The little snake mentioned something about substations and electrical charges disrupting chakra signatures—and Orochimaru already informed him most of Danzō’s ‘Root’ organization is literally underground. Despite being part of said organization for the past twenty years, Orochimaru only knowns of a few entrances; such as the entrance in his own lab; the so-called main entrance that is disguised as part of the under city storm drain and water reservoir; and a long tunnel that opens outside of Konoha’s sensing barrier.

The rest of the nooks and crannies and secret entrances are unknown to them. Ryōma mentioned service tunnels, but they didn’t have time to discuss the full details—everything’s been moving so fast. What a mess, Jiraiya thinks.

Now he has a decision to make.

Does he trust everyone at the Detection Division to check their seals and equipment with a fine-tooth comb, without his help; or does he drop his unexpected lead to secure everything himself?

He could come back after, he reasons, but there might not be time—and if the situation looks grim (for Danzō) the bastard might bury his skeletons by detonating his base of operations. They’re already lacking physical evidence against the bastard, and while blowing up a secret underground base would be nothing short of an outright admission of guilt, it would still be the destruction of evidence. Evidence some people _need_ for closure.

“Fuck it,” Jiraiya whispers to himself. “When have I ever turned down an opportunity to go digging?”

He just hopes it’s not his own grave he’s digging.

His student squawks as he deposits her onto Torifu’s property. She tried to argue that he should bring her to Shikaku and Inoichi at the Intelligence Division instead, but he knows Danzō and the first place he will seek to cripple will undoubtedly be the command center, their relay station. Shikaku is fully aware of that possibility and planned to fortify the location, but Danzō is moving sooner than any of them expected.

Danzō _knew_ his first move would be to secure the Hokage; to move Sarutobi-sensei, weakened as he is, somewhere safe.

He was naïve, and Danzō read him like an open book.

“Sensei—”

“Not now, Honōka.” He needs to find Kakashi, or Ryōma, and impress upon them the importance of restraining his student in the event of any catastrophic failures in their plans.

“But Sensei—”

Torifu appears, dressed not in his usual jōnin attire, but in the more traditional Akimichi regalia.

Orochimaru is fully taken aback.

Torifu can only mean to take responsibility, if their plans to depose Danzō and his lackeys should fail. He’s wagering the Akimichi name—their reputation—on this… revolution. He suddenly feels like a lump has formed in his throat.

“Sensei!” Honōka yells, tugging on his hand hard enough that a civilian would be nursing bruises and possibly a sprained wrist.

He scowls down at her, though his frown softens at the determined look in her tri-colored eyes. He suspects, like the Byakugan, the golden pupil only appears when she actively molds chakra in her eyes.

However, they have been golden since she stripped away the effects of Kotoamatsukami. She either hasn’t noticed (he thinks she has—she’s been squinting and looking rather green since he moved her first to Minato’s apartment, and then to Torifu’s home), or is purposely subjecting herself to the discomfort this stage of her dōjutsu, for whatever reason. He waits for her to say her piece.

She kneels on the dusty packed earth surrounding the engawa of Torifu’s home and begins drawing with a chakra enhanced finger, using a modified Tōkatsuchi no Jutsu to carve the frost hardened earth.

“Minato reappeared at the hospital and then disappeared again with Hokage-sama, Biwako-obā-san, and Ottā-san. He hasn’t returned, but Tsunade-san doesn’t seem concerned. I think she told him to guard the Hokage, rather than let him go back to the hospital.”

He nods. That sounds like Tsunade. She would rather take a stand against an entire army herself than risk a child dying in front of her. He _fully_ understands where she is coming from.

“Danzō is here, about one hundred meters back from the hospital, with the couch ninjas and the jōnin from the standby station and the chūnin from the barracks. Some of them are ours, and they’re prepared to mutiny. Shikaku told them not to give themselves away, but they’re angry. The rest are… well, some are concerned, but I don’t know why. Danzō probably told them something to get them so concerned, but again, I don’t know what. Some are more apathetic—not Root apathetic, just doing their job apathetic. And some are excited. Eager to fight, is my best guess.”

“You think the situation could escalate,” he says.

Honōka nods, once.

“Root agents have appeared above ground as well. Most have mingled with the group Danzō brought to the hospital, but some are positioning themselves around the Intelligence Division, and others at the Hokage’s Office and the Academy.”

“Hostages?” he asks. The Academy is in session, after all.

“Fugaku-san took half the KKB to the Academy the moment I got my message out. They got there before the Root agents did. Fushima-ojī-san is taking the remaining military police to the hospital and is carefully approaching the situation. Uchiha Mikoto, I think, is in Uchiha-ku, fortifying the district.”

Orochimaru feels his lip twitch up in a situationally inappropriate grin.

You can take the Uchiha off the battlefield, but you cannot take the warrior out of the Uchiha.

He’s glad to have them on their side. He hates to imagine what might have become of Konoha if Danzō had turned the Uchiha against them. A slaughter of epic proportions, no doubt.

Honōka squeezes her eyes shut and blinks hard a few times. When she opens her eyes again, the golden slit pupils have sealed shut.

“And I lost Jiji.”

…

“You _lost_ Jiraiya?!”


	109. out of touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How many Uchiha are in the KKB again…? One hundred and twenty _active_ members? Or is his little bootlicker talking about the _entire_ KKB (every member of the clan above the age of sixteen) numbering somewhere around three hundred?

Yamabiko Fukurō is getting married in the New Year—assuming the current state of affairs doesn’t escalate from political unrest to all-out civil war.

She thinks her big brother would (jokingly) praise the horrendous timing; he’s been loathing her impending marriage since she got engaged last year. No one is good enough for his precious little sister, least of all Takahashi Reiji, the humble civilian artisan. 

Of course, his opinion on the matter is a moot point now. He’s dead.

Yamabiko Kōmori is MIA, but Fukurō knows that will change to KIA in the spring. Shinobi don’t just go missing on border patrol, unless they plan on defecting. But she knows her brother. He didn’t defect.

They’ll find his body, eventually. The Aburame cadaver insects are good at what they do.

She shifts her weight, leaning hard on the sandbag barricade she and her fellow chūnin set up in front of the Konoha Hospital. Not that it’ll do any damn good if the Senju Hime herself decides to kick their asses for loitering in front of _her_ hospital.

She molds chakra in her ears and concentrates on the councilmen murmuring under their little tarp canopy, a good twenty meters back. Good to know they'll be the first ones risking their lives, yeah?

Utatane is getting impatient. She thinks Tsunade should have acknowledged them by now.

Which is utter bullshit. If Tsunade-hime cared enough to acknowledge them, she might as well come out here and squash them all under her pinky finger while she’s at it. Fukurō would take one giant leap away from the ensuing clusterfuck and then applaud the Princess while she finishes picking their crusty old blood out from under her nails.

The senile old fools are actually accusing her of holding the Hokage and his family hostage. Because, apparently (get a load of this bullshit!), _Tsunade-hime is blaming the Hokage for the death of her little brother…_ fifteen years after the fact. Riiight.

So, this is what their village is becoming—a steaming pile of bullshit heaped on top of an existing pile of horseshit. And the worst part? Some of these idiots in line with her are eating it up! Fucking _disgusting._

Sometimes, Fukurō wishes her Bullshit Detector™ wasn’t so sensitive, because she’s getting real sick of the smell of ass every time she steps outside her house.

The stench is especially putrid today, no thanks to one Shimura Danzō.

_“Fukurō-chan, if anyone ever approaches you about my debts, kindly tell them to fuck off, yeah?”_

_“Nī-san, what the hell are you smoking? Can I have some?”_

She’d laughed at him, thinking, _what debts?!_ Their clan may be on the small side, but the Yamabiko family has brains, beauty, lineage, and—most importantly— _money_.

And yet the week after her brother left for border patrol in August, there were loan sharks and creditors harassing her, insisting she owed them money.

She wasn’t concerned, not really. Her dunce of a big brother probably got scammed in a pyramid scheme, so she told them to fuck off—with her fist—and started looking for legal advice. 

That’s when Shimura _fucking_ Danzō showed up, popped a squat, and shat all over her front doorstep, offering to pay off her ‘debts’. And all he wanted in return was for her to ‘consult’ for him, using her clan’s sensory techniques. 

She turned him down. 

You see—despite being a Yamabiko kunoichi by blood, and having a much older, much more talented brother with big ears and their clan’s signature sensor ability—Yamabiko Fukurō is NOT a sensor type at all.

 _No sensor abilities—at all?_ The old bastard asked, _twice,_ just to be certain.

 _None, Sir Danzō-sama, Sir!_ Ugh, vomit!

He hadn’t looked convinced at all, so she had to turn on the charm, bat her eyelashes a few times, and tug on the lobe of one modestly sized ear. Then she lied through her teeth about their clan’s ‘enhanced hearing’ and ‘audio specific sensor ability’ being inherited only by the members of their clan with the biggest ears—like her brother, Kōmori.

And he bought it! Turned around and hauled his wrinkly ass back to his crypt without another word. She hasn’t heard from the creditors or loan sharks since.

What a _fucking_ idiot.

Yamabiko Fukurō is not _officially_ a sensor type. She doesn’t have the necessary control to spread her chakra like a net, or the concentration to listen for every little vibration and interpret what it all means.

She does, in fact, have enhanced hearing. Or, the chakra pathways in her ears are rather accommodating and it takes little to no effort for her to channel chakra to her ears to significantly increase their sensitivity. But anyone with a handle on basic chakra control can do that—her Yamabiko genes just let her do it better.

However, Fukurō’s latent sensor abilities and enhanced hearing are just two of three secrets Kōmori-nī-san swore her to silence on. 

Secret number three is her handy dandy Bullshit Detector™. 

She’ll tell anyone (when asked) she can smell bullshit, and that—coupled with her A+ vocabulary—is enough to get most people off her back about her uncanny ability to detect lies. Danzō didn’t even ask about it, so she can only assume her crass deflections work.

But the Second Hokage once said, _“You cannot lie to a truly gifted sensor…”_ and he was talking about her grandmother, Yamabiko Nezumi. Half her family swears the Second Hokage had a huge boner for her grandmother; the remaining half insists it was the other way around. 

Whatever the case, no one can lie to her—not to her face, at least. She can hear the truth bitching about being covered up, _so tell no lies_.

Those are her three secrets; three secrets only two people in the entire world know—and one of them is already dead.

“Danzō-sama, the Uchiha have captured Zone A…”

Fukurō does not react, outwardly. On the inside, though, she’s screaming. She doesn’t know what Zone A is, but it’s sounds important. Way to go, Uchiha Clan, pissing all over the old cunt’s plans!

Danzō rumbles, sounding just slightly inconvenienced. 

“How many are holding the point?”

“Half of the Military Police Force, Danzō-sama…”

Shocked silence, then a harsh clack of his walking stick. 

Fukurō yawns to cover her savage grin. 

How many Uchiha are in the KKB again…? One hundred and twenty _active_ members? Or is his little bootlicker talking about the _entire_ KKB (every member of the clan above the age of sixteen) numbering somewhere around three hundred?

Fukurō was on the census committee last year, so she knows it’s three hundred and six, exactly—there have been two deaths and two coming of age ceremonies in the Uchiha clan since. 

“Where are the remaining members of the military police stationed?”

“Unknown, Danzō-sama.”

The resulting open handed smack is loud enough that several heads turn, including hers. Utatane Koharu lowers one hand and raises the other to cover her mouth as she leans towards Danzō.

Fukurō turns her ear towards them, like she’s embarrassed by the display of impudence the bootlicker must have shown to have received a slap from the ‘level-headed’ councilwoman, and molds as much chakra as she dares to her ears. There are Hyūga around to see, but they’re so snobby they can’t even get out of their own way.

“…this is _not_ how you said it would go…!”

“Calm down, Koharu,” Mitokado Homura says while wiping the corners of his greasy mouth to disguise his flapping gums. “We still outnumber the Uchiha, ten-to-one.”

Koharu hisses. “ _Ten-to-one_ , Homura? Do you think that matters to the Uchiha? They fought the Senju to a standstill while outnumbered fifty-to-one! Which clan prospers today—the Senju, or the Uchiha? Hmm, Homura- _kun_ …?”

“Enough,” Danzō snaps. “It is but a minor setback.”

Fukurō forces herself to look at the hospital again, whispered conversation melding with the rest of the surrounding whispers. In the reflection of a hospital window, she sees the silhouette of a shadow with red eyes—and immediately loses her train of thought.

Even so, Fukurō smiles. Danzō and his cahoots are out of touch, and running out of time.

Orochimaru touches two fingers to his temple and tries to convey to Honōka his remorse for having yelled at her over the overwhelming desire to find Jiraiya and shake him. 

Of course, the oaf would go missing in the middle of a damn coup—right when they need him most.

He had a plan! A plan that involved him and Jiraiya showing up to aid Tsunade in her time of need—the Legendary Sannin standing united against the corruption of their village, together.

He doubts the show of camaraderie in opposition to Danzō and his allies would change the minds of his more fanatical supporters, but for the shinobi loyal to the village and the Will of Fire first and foremost, it would be a wake up call that would put them firmly on their side of the coup.

“…Where did you lose him?” he asks.

“The substation near your lab, Sensei.”

“I am going to _strangle_ him…!”

Torifu’s eyebrows creep up, forehead wrinkling under his hitai-ate.

Honōka shrugs.

“Jiji felt determined before he disappeared. Maybe he saw something too important to ignore?”

He sighs. Orochimaru can’t believe his student is defending Jiraiya.

Kakashi peeks out the door, Ryōma hovering behind him.

“Excellent timing, Kakashi. Take Honōka inside and make sure she stays _put.”_

“Yes, Orochimaru-sensei,” Kakashi responds, steel colored eyes settling on Honōka. His nose crinkles under his mask, and he firmly grabs Honōka by the hand. “Come on, Honōka.”

Kakashi drags Honōka away, who goes with a pout on her face. Ryōma hesitates in the doorway.

“With me, Ryōma-kun. I need you to track down an AWOL member of our party.”


	110. one second longer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He turns back and stares at the oversized mushrooms and mycelium. It’s not easy to tell when he’s looking right at it, but there’s definitely a… pulse.

Jiraiya is a pro at breaking and entering, so it only takes him a second to pick the lock on the tool shed, and then a minute to realize the seals on the hidden elevator are damn sophisticated.

He can’t disarm them, or rewrite them. He stares at the unfamiliar jutsu-shiki warding the entrance to Root’s underground tunnels and feels frustration creep up on him. He’s supposed to be the best seal master in the elemental nations, dammit!

How come no one ever mentioned Danzō was a freaking seal master himself? Did he hide it? _(Why?)_

Whatever, if he can’t disarm or rewrite the seals, he’ll just have to destroy them and force his way in.

He presses his palm against the ward and deliberately channels fire natured chakra through the ink catalyst. The paper medium the ink is written on burns and the ward falls.

“Ha!” Jiraiya crows. “And that is why you always hide or disguise your seal work…!” or at least make sure your catalyst and medium are resistant to elemental influences. 

A lot of amateur fūinjutsu-shi make the mistake of using chakra reactive paper with chakra reactive ink, thinking it will strengthen their work. It does—but what’s the point if the paper catches on fire; or the ink runs because the paper turns soggy; or the formula crinkles and malfunctions; or a tear separates the cornerstone and the seal fails; or the whole thing crumbles to dust? Basically, all it takes is a bit of natured chakra and the whole thing fails.

Jiraiya pauses. If Danzō is a sealing master on par with himself (or, he grudgingly admits—better…!) why on earth would he make such a beginner mistake? It doesn’t make any sense!

He shakes himself and climbs into the elevator. There’s no ward or barrier to keep him out anymore, and nothing to detect him, but he doubts his tampering will go unnoticed for long. He pushes the old-fashioned hand lever down and waits for the elevator to reach the next floor.

And waits…

…

“Just how deep are these damn tunnels?!”

He can feel the elevator moving and hear the steady mechanical whirring of the cables, so he knows he’s descending at a steady pace… and he must be at least ten stories down by now! Was there really any need of digging a (secret) base this deep?! It’s not like anyone can sense what’s going on down here, thanks to whatever science-y non-sense Danzō rigged in the ground between surface level and whatever depth Jiraiya’s at now.

Just when he’s thinking he’s come too far to turn around (but is considering it, anyway—he doesn’t have all day!), the elevator chimes and he eases up on the lever. A second chime follows when the elevator docks with the floor’s cage and he reaches for the gate, eager to embark and start digging.

A foul stench hits him in the face when he opens the gate, and one hand flies up to cover his nose and mouth. His eyes water.

_Son of a bitch!_

Jiraiya is immune to most poisons and toxins, but that’s not what hangs in the air like a noxious miasma.

It’s the odor of death and decay—of bodies rotting, exposed but protected from the elements and scavengers. He gags. He’s in a freaking mausoleum—Root’s Boneyard, he realizes.

 _Son of a bitch,_ he repeats in his head. He doesn’t dare open his mouth or breathe in too deep. The scent of death is going to cling to him for days as it is—he doesn’t need to taste it too!

Then he realizes this entrance is close to Orochi’s lab—the one inside the village. The elevator leading back up to the lab is somewhere within two hundred meters of where he’s standing now. 

Son of a bitch.

It’s like—no, it's not just _‘like’._ Danzō meant for Orochimaru to suffer by putting the bodies of his ‘failed’ experiments here, knowing what he would have to subject himself to every time the bastard summoned him to his fucking lair. 

The putrid scent of flesh rotting off bone.

It’s sick.

No wonder Orochi refused to ascertain the deaths of the Mokuton children himself. It was something he put firmly in the ‘things to do after Danzō is dead’ category. 

And if they’ve been left to decay down here for the last three months… well, they’re dried husks by now.

He debates getting back in the elevator—or staying just long enough to count sixty small bodies. 

Orochimaru doesn’t need to come down here at all.

Jiraiya steels himself and steps off the elevator.

There are rows and rows of open square cubicles set in the walls of the large, rough-hewn chamber. He can’t see inside them from his current positions, but (from the smell) he’s thinking the bodies are exposed. Completely exposed.

He almost hopes that is the case. He doesn’t want to do anything more than the required cursory glance. Breaking open coffins can get… messy.

He molds chakra to his feet, giving his wooden geta just the right amount of tackiness to mute the sound of his steps. It’s dead (…) quiet.

From his new angle he can see the first body, a twisted skeletal foot with a bare scrap of skin stretched over the heel. A few yellowed toenails have fallen off and are coated in a layer of dust formed by disintegrated skin.

He peeks inside, lips pursing. A child, but not quite young enough to be one of the Mokuton children.

He checks another few cubicles and clenches his jaw.

Sage have mercy—but not on Danzō, that bastard…! Half of the bodies aren’t even covered by shrouds or sheets—spared no dignity, even in death.

He walks the entire far wall, glancing at the horribly degraded bodies of teenagers and small children, biting down the shame that gets heavier with every step he takes.

How did he _not_ know? How did so many children go missing without _anybody_ knowing?!

It’s while he’s struggling to swallow the lump of self-loathing choking him that he smells something cloyingly musky—earthy.

Like mushrooms—but not just any mushrooms. It smells like the notoriously poisonous mushrooms that grow in the Forty-Fourth Training Ground; the First Hokage’s former playground.

That can only mean one thing, so he follows his nose, turns a corner, and falters.

It’s the mushrooms from the Forest of Death, alright. One and a half meter tall wonders that glow in the dim electrical lighting of the burial chamber. He holds his sleeve over his nose and mouth again. They don’t look like they’re actively dropping any spores, but better to err on the side of caution.

He’s immune to _most_ poisons and toxins, but these mushrooms produce a non-lethal paralytic agent so powerful that Orochimaru likes to collect them in the fall to refine and apply to his weaponry. One breath of even the unrefined spores will put Jiraiya on his ass.

He stands well back, and crouches to peak into the floor level cubicles. The stringy iridescent mycelium that grows over everything in this row makes it both easier to see by, and easier for him to bare counting the webbed over bodies, five to a cubical.

Jiraiya counts.

Five, ten, fifteen… twenty-five. Thirty. Forty. 

Fifty-one, fifty-two, fifty-three, fifty-four, and fifty-five.

Well. He’s missing some. He glances down the small aisle, but it’s empty except for the Mokuton children he already counted.

Right.

He counts again.

And again.

Fifty-five.

That’s five missing… children. Does he hope? Five is a much easier number of potentially overpowered little Mokuton users to train and, well, not care for. Danzō doesn’t know the meaning of the phrase.

They could also be preserved in jars or some shit, for all he knows.

He stands up from his crouch, knees cracking from the stooped position he held for some time. Typical, that he should go digging for answers and find more questions. He exhales through his nose and turns away. 

He freezes, staring hard at his shadow. The light casting his shadow brightens, then dims, like a flickering candle—like a wavering breath.

He turns back and stares at the oversized mushrooms and mycelium. It’s not easy to tell when he’s looking right at it, but there’s definitely a… pulse.

Jiraiya stands still for a long moment—long enough to gather natural energy to mold into senjutsu chakra. His five senses sharpen, and the pulsing light quickens its pace.

The fungus, like any living thing, is readily apparent to his enhanced Sage Mode sensor abilities. He can tell that the mycelium spanning across the cubicles in this aisle is interconnected, and is drawing energy to a single point.

A small body covered in thick mycelium roots, almost cocoon-like.

He tunes out the root system, focusing on the cocoon only.

An active Chakra Pathway System, and a racing—beating!—heart.

He squats again, eye level with the cubicle. Sage Mode does him no favors now; he can see through the almost transparent threads over the other infants with his enhanced eyesight, and they are sad little things—shriveled and broken down by the mushroom roots. 

Except for one.

It dawns on him that this tiny, innocent creature has been surviving all this time—alone—by consuming the bodies of the other children.

It’s terrifying, but also eerily… beautiful.

Jiraiya knows these are the smallest and the youngest of the Mokuton children. The other five are likely the older outliers Orochimaru solemnly described to him and Tsunade over drinks—the children between the ages of two and four that initially weren’t expected to survive the cell replacement technique, but did.

He thinks Danzō kept those children. They would have been able to at least walk on their own power; would have looked like less hassle than the babies the bastard discarded without a second thought. His thoughts turn traitorous on him, and he wonders if the bastard even bothered to make sure they were dead before depositing them here.

But the evidence speaks for itself. Whoever put them here couldn’t be bothered to be thorough.

 _One._

One survived, against all odds, clinging to life even after being abandoned and surrounded by death.

Their rapidly beating heart has slowed down some since he stopped moving again, and he experimentally shifts, wondering if he somehow frightened them earlier.

Nothing.

He shuffles back, wooden geta scraping soundlessly on the stone floor, and the racing heart beat picks up again.

His hand drops away from his nose and mouth.

“You don’t want me to leave.”

Their miniature Chakra Pathway System stutters, maybe not from actual understanding, Jiraiya reasons, but from the stimulus of his voice in the otherwise uninterrupted silence. 

He eyes the network of mycelium feeders and prays they aren’t the only thing keeping the infant alive, because he can’t risk leaving them here.

It’s a damn miracle they survived this long on their own, and another miracle that they escaped notice for just as long. It’s a miracle he isn’t willing to leave here, not for one second longer. 

Jiraiya shuffles forward and reaches into the cubby, over two nearly disintegrated bodies, and scoops up the cocoon.

The fibers holding it in place are surprisingly tensile, almost like spider silk, and the threads audibly tear as he supports the weight of their head and pulls. When the last roots snap free, the mycelium and mushrooms dim. 

He suspects, like a cut umbilical cord, that the baby isn’t getting any more nutrients—and oxygen—from the cocoon-like sack surrounding them.

He quickly (and carefully!) cuts the cocoon open with the only medical ninjutsu Tsunade ever taught him, the chakra scalpel technique, and peels back the stringy white material.

A tiny fist clenches and unclenches, and the baby lets out a warbling cry.

“Oh, no,” he coos, cleaning her off. “Not another little girl…! You girls are more trouble than I realized, you know?”

She cries harder and he sits down, resting her carefully in his lap so he can tear off his sleeves and rig up a baby sling of some sort. And, gods, she’s so small! She must be one of the more recent preemies brought into the Mokuton experiments.

Orochi’ll know which one she is when he sees her.

He comes up with something halfway acceptable and tucks her against his chest, just holding her for a long moment, warming her cool body by gently circulating his chakra. He expands his Sage Mode fueled sensory-field and relaxes when he finds no other chakra signatures in the near vicinity. 

Her cries subside when he smooths down her almost sticky tuffs of short golden brown hair, and he slowly stands up.

“I don’t know what you’re supposed to be called, so I’ll just call you Kinoko for now, okay? My editor says I’m terrible at naming characters and usually does it for me, you know? The main character of the first novel I ever published was named Naruto—like the ramen topping… Kushina thought it was hilarious.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kinoko literally means mushroom. Jiraiya is getting real creative with his naming sense, as you can tell.
> 
> Also, Kinoko are a type of yōkai...
> 
> [Kinoko](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kinoko)


	111. playing shogi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shikaku chuckles at the hard glint in his friend’s eyes. You don’t touch Inoichi’s hair and expect to get away with it. 

Tsunade glares out her office window, unseen by Danzō and his cohorts, thanks to the cleverly designed one-way glass panes. Orochimaru patented the design years ago.

Momiji, her assistant, knocks on the open door. 

“Tsunade-sama, Uchiha Fushima-sama is asking to meet with you.”

Tsunade turns away from the window with a frown. “Fushima is…?”

“Yes, Tsunade-sama.”

She glances out the window again, concerned. How the fuck did Uchiha Fushima get past Danzō and his men out there, _without_ being noticed?

She shakes her head. Fushima might not be as well known as Sarutobi-sensei or their other contemporaries, but shinobi don’t just survive to the ripe old age of fifty-five without knowing a few tricks.

And, again, he’s an Uchiha—the Uchiha patriarch, no less. He’s seen twice the tricks anyone else his age has and remembers them all with perfect clarity. Damn Sharingan eyes—she swears they’re more trouble than they’re worth.

“Send him in.”

“Yes, Tsunade-sama.”

Tsunade crosses her arms and resumes glaring out the window. She hopes Dan made it to the Intelligence Division alright.

It was very _practical_ of him to volunteer to head there as Inoichi’s backup—he’s the only non-Yamanaka (debatable, on several accounts) capable of long distance communication, after all. 

Behind her, Uchiha Fushima clears his throat. Every year, when the weather turns cold, his chronic bronchitis acts up, but Fushima hasn’t been by for treatment—yet. She thinks he’s being stubborn about his condition, which helps absolutely no one.

“Watching the show, Tsunade-hime?”

She snorts. It’s not a very interesting ‘show’.

“What else am I supposed to do? If I start shit—if I go out there—I’m putting my staff and my patients in danger; not to mention the chūnin he’s using as a shield.” 

Fushima strolls up to the window beside her and peers down at the gathered shinobi.

“He’s waiting for your move, Tsunade-hime.”

“I know!” she growls. “I know.”

She catches Fushima glancing at her from the corner of her eye and reluctantly turns to face him.

“How’d you even get past the blockade?” she asks.

He smirks. “Oh, we Uchiha have our ways.”

Damn smug, old man—wait. 

Did he say ‘we’? Tsunade grins.

“Fushima, you _sly_ old weasel…!”

He chuckles, a rattling sound that sets her inner physician’s nerves on fire. He should just let her treat his COPD—rather than letting it flare up every time the seasons change and making do with home remedies that only ease the symptoms. Maybe she can get Honōka _and_ Fugaku to gang up on him after they deal with Danzō.

“How much personnel did you bring?”

“One hundred,” Fushima replies, his own grin more bared teeth than smile.

She laughs. Danzō has significantly more shinobi holding her hospital—but most of them are chūnin. The Uchiha will wipe the floor with them, and the sheer difference in ability (and the Uchiha’s training in non-lethal takedowns) will mean fewer causalities for everyone involved. 

“What about the other twenty members?” she asks. “Did Danzō send his Root agents somewhere else?”

“Fugaku took one hundred members of the Keimu Butai to the Academy and surrounding infrastructure, both to protect the students there and seize documents from the Hokage’s office and Administration Division.”

Tsunade’s eyebrows shoot up. Two hundred? She thought there were only one hundred and twenty members in the Konoha Keimu Butai. Did he call previous members out of retirement?

“Mikoto and the remaining hundred are stationed in Uchiha-ku—though, knowing Mikoto, she will have heard the Nara boy’s announcement and moved to intercept any further meddling at the Intelligence Division.”

She should have known the Uchiha were still a _power_ —and trust the Uchiha to certify every capable member of their clan in the military police force!

“So, Tsunade-hime; what is your move?”

Tsunade pulls the elastic hair bands out of her twin tails and doubles the elastic bands together, pulling her hair into the high ponytail style she hasn’t worn in years.

“How much property destruction do you think the councilors’ bank accounts can stand to pay reparations for?”

Shikaku swears. He fucked up, big time.

He thought he was playing shogi against an opponent that knew what they were doing—or at least knew the rules for the game they were playing! He thought he knew what his opponent’s goals and priorities were, but it turns out he was playing shogi while his opponent, Danzō, was playing Go. 

Shikaku fucked up. Big time.

He thought they had time, but he should have immediately secured the Intelligence Division for a siege—and double checked their equipment!—before the shit had time to trickle down the pipes. But, instead of doing that, he’d plotted with Inoichi and Chōza on how to find the twins and secure _them,_ like a complete moron!

If Tsunade hadn’t sent Katō Dan to be their backup, they would have been in deep shit.

The only silver lining in their current situation is Danzō is a fucking asshole and he sent the twins straight to them. So, while Katō Dan deals with the rest of the Root agents, (he doesn’t even need help—the guy’s a freaking monster!) Shikaku, Inoichi, and Chōza attempt to contain the twins. The rest of the Intelligence Division is busy getting their equipment back in working order. 

They really need it up and running, and soon. It’s fine and dandy if they manage to counteract Danzō’s schemes before they fix it—but the fact is they are on the brink of civil war in the middle of a much larger war. Tempers are running hot and cold in the village, and he wouldn’t put it pass some of the more volatile shinobi to bring the village down and watch it burn in retaliation for everything Danzō and the Hokage have put them through.

He swears again as dozen shuriken whistle by and loosens his control on Inoichi’s and Chōza’s shadows while he dives under a desk.

He never wants to fight inside a goddamn office building ever again.

The building’s contents are too important to risk using elemental ninjutsu and destroying, and Chōza’s melee style ninjutsu are also too destructive—if he breaks down one too many walls there’s the small chance of the entire building coming down on top of them.

On top of that, their normal detainment methods won’t work on the Yamanaka twins. Inoichi can’t get them with the mind-body switch technique because the other twin will just switch out with the twin Inoichi switched with, leaving Inoichi’s body vulnerable for the few seconds he takes to return to it. 

They tried it, once, and Inoichi’s missing about a pound of hair for his troubles. 

But surprisingly, (and despite the fact his younger siblings almost took his head off his shoulders) that just makes him more determined to win. And angry. 

Oh, is he ever pissed about them chopping his hair off. 

Inoichi jumps behind the desk he’s currently operating his shadows from and grabs him by the shoulder, hauling him away as a flash bang rolls under. He doesn’t stop pulling until he’s led them out a door and into another room, leaving Chōza to slap the twins around on his own for a bit.

Honestly—he and Chōza could take them out on their own, easy—if they weren’t worried about maiming them. It’s frustrating.

Inoichi suddenly grabs his hand and slaps a wad of ash blond hair into his open palm.

“What the fuck?” he asks.

“Shadow Sewing Technique.” Inoichi says. “Use the Shadow Sewing Technique with my hair inside it.”

Shikaku stares at the long and tangled and still smoking strands of hair. Hair is strong—strong enough that if a shinobi has to go without ninja wire during a metal shortage, you’ll see all kinds of… alternatives showing up.

Let’s just say you don’t want to be a shinobi with long hair on a battlefield during a ninja wire shortage. 

“Inoichi, I don’t have the control to tie them down with this—and Kage Nui no Jutsu won’t hold opponents as slippery as the twins for longer than a second.”

“That’s all I need.”

Shikaku frowns.

“What are you planning?”

“I’m going to link up our minds—like how Honōka-kun dragged me and you into her inner sanctum at the border camp.”

He closes his hand around the hair and nods. The chances of it working are slim—the Yamanaka Clan’s techniques are only meant to link two conscious minds at once, because linking isn’t the same as projecting messages, or even receiving messages from multiple targets. Linking is more… intimate. More dangerous. 

But he trusts Inoichi to make it work.

“I can stop them for two seconds. Don’t miss.”

“Oh, I won’t.”

Shikaku chuckles at the hard glint in his friend’s eyes. You don’t touch Inoichi’s hair and expect to get away with it. 

“Guys! A little help in here?!” Chōza shouts from the other room.

“Ready?”

Inoichi nods. 

“Right. Time to kick some ass.”


	112. Sage have mercy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Silverfish.” Ryōma replies. “They eat paper. I have been breeding them to target seals written on paper, as kikaichū are unaffected by genjutsu and other yin-based deceptions.”
> 
> Wonderful, Orochimaru thinks. Another genius that cares not for the highly revered art of fūinjutsu.

Torifu leaves them to their own devices after sternly warning her to behave. Honōka thinks that’s unfair—Kakashi never gets any warnings, and he’s almost as reckless as she is!

She sighs and shuffles out from under the kotatsu. Kakashi jumps up, jarring the heavy wooden antique with his knee as he does, pretending very hard that it didn’t hurt at all.

“Where are you going?”

“Gaku-nī is still here.” She picks up the bowl of snack Torifu left for them. “I’m going to see if he wants some snacks.”

“I’m going with you.”

Jeez! It’s like he thinks she’ll run off without him or something. He should know by now she only left him behind _last time_ because he was injured.

She shrugs and heads off to find Gaku with her bowl of snacks. He’s hovering somewhere outside his sister’s borrowed room, on the other side of Torifu’s family estate. Kakashi just about heels her the entire way.

They find him in a small outdoor courtyard, plucking dead grass from the sandy soil. Chairo is on the engawa, lying in front of the shōji doors to the room Tsume is sleeping in. He wags his tail for them.

“Oh, hey, you two.” Gaku greets. “Torifu could have let me know I was on babysitting duty before he left.”

Honōka sticks her tongue out at Gaku and jumps off the engawa, padding barefoot across the cold ground.

“We’re not _babies_ …!” Kakashi complains under his breath, still dogging her every step.

“Here, Gaku-nī. I brought you some snacks!”

“Hey, thanks, but I already ate. I’m good.”

Honōka frowns. She’s pretty sure he’s lying to her. His lower dantian looks hungry, so she plops down next to him and deposits the bowl of snacks into his lap.

“You should eat something, Gaku-nī. Your chakra is all sad.”

He raises an eyebrow at her.

“You think eating will help that any?”

She nods, expression solemn. “Of course. I recommend the miso rice crackers. They taste like home.”

That draws a low chuckle from Gaku, and he obediently opens a package of rice crackers.

“’Tastes like home’, huh? How come?”

“Kakashi made me miso soup every day for a week when I got out of the hospital.” Honōka thinks Kakashi makes the best miso soup. He always gets the seasoning just right.

“No wonder Honōka’s so attached to you, pup. The quickest way to the heart is through the stomach.”

Kakashi flushes. He’s a mixture of pleased and embarrassed.

“Maa… I thought the quickest way to the heart was through the ribs…”

Gaku shoots Kakashi an incredulous look, and Honōka laughs so hard she falls over, holding her stomach and kicking her feet. Gaku shakes his head at them both, his just barely there smile fond.

“You two are nuts, you know that, right?”

Honōka continues giggling and Kakashi sighs.

“I would watch out, Gaku-nī—Minato thinks it’s contagious.”

Gaku snorts and offers the snack bowl out to Kakashi, who also takes a pack of rice crackers, and Gaku cheers up a little when he realizes Kakashi finally trusts him enough to take food from him.

“No worries, pup. I lost it a long time ago.”

Ryōma leads him to a nearby substation. Like his student suspected, there are hidden entrances to Root at most.

“Jiraiya entered the underground complex from halfway across the village, Ryōma-kun.” Orochimaru reminds.

The boy adjusts his goggles. 

“…This is faster. My insects can find Jiraiya-san without… us having to track him through the Boneyard.”

Ah, yes. The Boneyard. It is quite large, though he hadn’t realized it was large enough to exit off both his lab and the nearby substation. 

“You do not sound keen on entering the Boneyard,” he comments. Ryōma doesn’t spare him a glance as he picks the lock on an innocuous tool shed.

“…Would you be?”

He went down there often enough, before the border patrol. Sourcing cadavers in a shinobi village could be tedious at the best of times, and Honōka graduated from dissecting and autopsying pigs and other animal remains sooner than he expected.

The smell was never pleasant, of course, and the storage method could only be described as deliberately atrocious—cruel even. It never consciously bothered him, per se… but Orochimaru would be lying if he said he was completely unaffected.

The night after he learned the fate of his Mokuton subjects, he dreamed of their rotting bodies piled in a corner of the Boneyard, hollow eyes in tiny skulls. He could not bare to view their remains after that, and perhaps that is what Danzō wanted.

Ryōma removes the padlock and they step inside the dusty tool shed. The boy kicks aside a crate and stoops to lift a trapdoor, revealing a narrow stairwell descending into a larger, dimly lit room.

The elevator shaft is warded quite extensively.

“Excuse me, Orochimaru-san.”

He allows the boy to approach the wards—though he should realize without the Cursed Tongue Eradication seal neither one of them can disarm the seal.

But Ryōma extends his palm out to the barrier and a _plethora_ of tiny, gray insects erupt from his hand.

Orochimaru’s skin _crawls._

“Woodlice?” he asks.

“Silverfish.” Ryōma replies. “They eat paper. I have been breeding them to target seals written on paper, as kikaichū are unaffected by genjutsu and other yin-based deceptions.”

Wonderful, Orochimaru thinks. Another genius that cares not for the highly revered art of fūinjutsu.

“They are slow, so I am considering cross-breeding them with a similar insect with wings.”

The barrier falls.

“It would be interesting to see if I could breed a variant of silverfish capable of disabling paper tags mid-battle.”

Sage have _mercy…!_

Orochimaru slams the elevator gate open and enters, staunching the urge to brush off his shoulders—in case any stray insects got on him. He knows none did, but the urge is no less there.

Ryōma enters after him, and if he collected his ‘silverfish’, Orochimaru did not see.

He holds the hand lever down and waits. Danzō should have considered upgrading to a newer system—like an automatic switch or button.

Orochimaru feels with his own nascent sensor ability the moment they pass the artificial electromagnetic barrier that blocks all sensors from discerning the existence of Root’s underground complex.

He also feels several dozen chakra signatures and hurriedly draws in his own sensory-field , lest their location be discerned by another sensor type.

“Ryōma-kun…”

“You are sensing a presence?” Ryōma asks, brows scrunching together. “Ah. I would not worry. This entrance is nearest to the Kennels.”

Orochimaru almost recoils. Nearly twenty years later and he still cannot fully hide his reaction or disguise the way the mere word triggers an anxious swallow, or the nervous tensing of his shoulders—it’s pathetic. 

…He hadn’t realized the Kennels were even within Konoha’s walls.

The elevator dings and he eases up on the lever until the cage docks with the basement level elevator box. He lets go, and Ryōma opens the gate.

“Excuse me,” he says again, and this time Orochimaru realizes it’s a polite warning.

Ryōma releases what appears to be generic kikaichū insects; small, black, flying beetles. His are quite fast.

“Are you able to use your sensory technique to locate Jiraiya-san?”

“Not without alerting other sensor types of my presence.”

“Ah. That would be… a minor inconvenience.”

But an inconvenience, no less, and they need to find Jiraiya and make their way to Tsunade’s side as soon as possible. They don’t have time to start a fight with any remaining agents.

“How long will it take your insects to find him?”

“Roughly six minutes to cover this entire floor.”

Ryōma does not say how long it would take for his insects to move down a floor and Orochimaru does hopes Jiraiya got off on the first floor. The second floor is a subterranean maze.

The boy starts walking.

“Where are you going?”

Ryōma pauses.

“…Is it not faster to meet Jiraiya-san in the middle? My kikaichū have not detected any hostile agents ahead.”

Orochimaru bites his tongue and does not ask if Ryōma intends to lead them through the Kennels.

“This is the only way forward.” Ryōma says.

“I see.”

Orochimaru once spent a month in the Kennels. A month was a longer duration than most could endure, and a shorter duration than some others were subjected to. Not that anyone who stayed longer made it out, unbroken.

He was twelve, and he wonders now if he wasn’t also broken, when he was finally let out.

Orochimaru glances at Ryōma, who is frowning rather thoughtfully.

He doubts Ryōma spent longer than a week in the Kennels. He’s like his student—a flexible mind and fluid soul—a body willing to bend but not break.

Orochimaru was too rigid, and he fractured, if not shattered. Why else would he have allowed Danzō to take him? 

(He can’t remember why he agreed—or even if he willingly agreed anymore.)

He allows himself to be led deeper into the underground complex, reining in his desire to reach out to Jiraiya in tap code as Honōka would. But he does not have the same range as Honōka and has to convince himself the potential delays caused by such an action are not worth it.

Just four minutes and twelve seconds and Ryōma will inform the oaf of their location through his insects. Four minutes and eight seconds and he will tell Jiraiya to get his fat ass in line.

Then the smell of sour, unwashed bodies and human waste assaults his nose and he silently gags.

It’s worse than he remembers.

He’ll never know if Danzō intentionally placed the Kennels on a high traffic path, to remind the ‘free range’ agents what would happen if they rebelled or failed him in any way—or if the bastard just enjoyed humiliating the children he put in the so-called kennels. 

And by so-called kennels, Orochimaru means glorified cages with zero privacy and naught but two bowls—one for the slop they would be fed during their stay in the Kennels, and another for the waste the ‘useless curs’ would produce.

The worst days were the days the handlers would mix up the two, and the days that followed such a mix-up.

He doesn’t make eye contact as they enter the Kennels proper. He can’t do anything for them until _after_ Danzō, he tells himself. And _after_ Danzō is dealt with, Tsunade can send medics and guards down here to deal with the abused (and potentially dangerous) child agents.

A cage rattles. He doesn’t look.

Another rattle and he walks faster, catching up with Ryōma, who looks unperturbed—but his eyes are covered and his expression carefully neutral.

“’Eh, you!”

His next step falters.

“You, _you!”_

He looks back. A child that can’t be older than two rattles their cage again, wearing a filthy oversized shirt.

They sign at him, for food, or for Orochimaru himself. It’s hard to tell with Kaede—he’s always hungry and seems to think that Orochimaru’s name is synonymous with ‘food’.

Kaede signs ‘food’ again and Orochimaru sees tears prickling in the toddler's eyes, cheeks gaunt.

Orochimaru grabs Ryōma by the shoulder—who startles at his touch—and slaps one of Minato’s Hiraishin kunai into his hands. 

“Call for Minato. _Now.”_


	113. ‘yellow’

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m sorry, what was that, Nara?” Yoshino says. “Do you need a dictionary?”

Shikaku and Inoichi charge back into the Intelligence Division’s office space. Chōza is in the process of swatting away one twin or the other. It’s hard to know which for sure, but he’s pretty sure the one with the bobbed hair is Yayoi, and the one with the long braid is Asahiko. Yayoi wearing the crescent moon mask and Asahiko the sun mask would make the most sense.

Or they could be wearing the opposite masks to further confuse their identities. Regardless, he thinks it’s fucking bold of Danzō to use their namesakes for their masks.

Inoichi places himself at a comfortable distance within his line of sight and wraps the hilt of a kunai with what looks to be an explosive tag.

Shikaku hopes that’s not the signal they discussed. He’d rather they not bring the building down now, after they’ve been doing so well to avoid it. He palms three kunai himself and launches them at the overhead lights, taking out all but one, and feels his shadows grow.

Inoichi tosses the tag wrapped kunai and detonates it midair.

Golden sparks—no, fireworks!—explode from the tag. Chōza yelps and dives for cover, but the twins hesitate, heads tilted. Fireworks are harmless in the grand scheme of things, after all.

He drops Inoichi’s bundled hair into his shadows and forms the hand signs for the Shadow Sewing Technique, _rat_ and _bird,_ guiding his manifested shadows to snare both twins while they’re distracted by the light show.

However, the twins are crafty and their reflexes fast. Before he can immobilize them both, Yoru/Yayoi throws a kunai at the remaining light. The windowless room goes dark.

Pitch black.

Shikaku’s shadow techniques cannot function in total darkness.

“Fuck.”

He doesn’t know if Inoichi took the shot—acting in anticipation of what he assumed would be a flawless capture—and jumps for where he knows Inoichi last was.

His ‘shadow sense’ isn’t completely nullified by the darkness, so he catches Inoichi by the shoulder and drags him away before the twins can attempt to decapitate him again.

He’s unconscious. _Fuck._

Chōza slams his fist into a wall and a trickle of light enters the room—and a flash of glowing red eyes.

Uchiha Mikoto flickers into the room, tantō drawn and at the ready. She knocks aside a dozen shuriken aimed her way before he even has time to react, and twirls the blade prettily.

He watches it spin for a long moment before he realizes he should move, but when he tries, it’s as though he’s stuck in slow motion.

Genjutsu. Bloody Uchiha…!

He raises his hands to release the genjutsu, but he’s moving so slowly. _Damn._

Then the illusion abruptly ends and he flinches, drawing a kunai on the person who jarred him from the genjutsu, assuming they intend to assault his vulnerable person.

 _“Bitch!”_ someone curses.

He draws back his kunai.

“Oh, it’s you.”

“ _Oh, it’s you._ ” Uchiha Yoshino mocks, nursing a deep slash on her forearm with medical ninjutsu. “Yeah, it’s me, you bitch.”

Whoops.

“See if I ever break your ungrateful ass out of Mikoto-onē-sama’s genjutsu again…!”

He clears his throat. Ideally, he won’t end up in such a situation, again.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s just a scratch. No big deal.”

Shikaku glances at her arm. It’s more that just a ‘scratch’, but she has it under control.

He checks on Inoichi next, slumped over at his feet, and kneels down next to him. He taps him on the cheek a couple times.

“Hey, Inoichi. You in there?”

Inoichi’s eyelids wrinkle and he scrunches up his nose. He comes to, flailing. Shikaku leans away.

“Shit!”

“Shh!” Yoshino hisses. “Mikoto-onē-sama is trancing your siblings. She needs to concentrate.”

Inoichi scrambles up and scours the room for Yayoi and Asahiko. 

They’re both still standing, though eerily motionless. Uchiha Mikoto is as well, the mitsudomoe markings in her glowing red eyes spinning. It’s always creepy when they do that, Shikaku thinks.

“Trancing them?” Inoichi asks. “Trancing them how?”

“Mikoto-onē-sama is using a genjutsu with a time dilation effect.” Yoshino says. “She’ll keep them under long enough to fuck up their sense of timing for a while, then I’ll move in and sedate them.”

“Why not sedate them now?” Shikaku asks.

“And risk having them use Yume Fumin or one of their other hiden jutsu? No thanks.”

Huh, Shikaku thinks. Maybe the Uchiha really do respect the Yamanaka. He thought that was just Fugaku being… Fugaku.

“They will be okay, right?” Inoichi asks. “This… time dilation genjutsu won’t hurt them…?”

“Yeah, of course not. It’s not like Mikoto-onē-sama is going to waterboard them inside the genjutsu or anything.”

He glances warily at the younger Uchiha.

“You Uchiha have a genjutsu for waterboarding?”

“Oh, definitely!” Yoshino chirps. “We have a whole repository of genjutsu torture methods. But you know, Nara, the best way to learn how to make a convincing genjutsu is to experience the scenario firsthand… and we welcome volunteers.”

Yoshino finishes healing her arm and Chōza steps back when she flicks open a switchblade, closes it, and secrets it away again in a blink. She’s just checking her dexterity, he hopes.

He interrupts his chakra… just in case. 

“Yoshino-chan,” Mikoto says. “Quickly now, before their minds have time to catch up.”

Yoshino draws two capped needles with a transparent yellow solution in each and confidently approaches the twins.

He reaches out with the Shadow Imitation Technique just in case either twin ‘catches up’.

“Thanks, Nara,” she drawls.

“Anytime,” he responds, equally sarcastic.

She administers the sedative to each twin, and he feels their bodies go boneless in his hold. He sits down and then guides them into lying on their sides before releasing the technique.

“How are the others?” he asks. “Katō Dan and the members of the Intelligence Division?”

“The situation is in hand,” Mikoto says. “My team outside have detained the Root insurrectionists.”

“Big words,” he grumbles.

“I’m sorry, what was that, Nara?” Yoshino says. “Do you need a dictionary?”

He glares, but he’s not even that invested in it.

Ah-ahh… he really fucked up today. He had to be bailed out by a couple women who aren’t even _proper_ jōnin.

…But, the more Shikaku thinks about it, the more he realizes the jōnin examination system might actually be rigged against promoting women. 

Goddamn couch ninjas.

Minato feels a pulse of chakra from one of his Hiraishin kunai and reaches for it, baffled when the point-to-point contact is interrupted and then reappears underground. He identifies the chakra as being Ryōma’s and the individual kunai being the one he gave to Orochimaru.

He frowns. They must be inside Root, which worries him. That wasn’t part of the plan.

“Minato-kun?” Biwako asks. “What is it?”

“Orochimaru-san just requested backup.”

“That boy…” Biwako mutters, humming thoughtfully.

The Hokage still hasn’t regained consciousness, and it’s just the three of them, (Biwako, Kazuma, and himself) defending Hokage-sama. Calling him away now is… risky.

“The Senju compound’s wards are some of the strongest seals in existence.” Biwako says. “We will be safe here, Minato-kun. Please go support Orochimaru.”

“You’re sure?”

Biwako rolls her eyes at him.

“Yes, child, I am sure.”

He nods and grabs onto the kunai he lent to Orochimaru, landing next to Ryōma.

Minato almost reaches to cover his nose, but that would occupy a hand he might otherwise need to defend himself. His eyes water. It smells like sewage and the Anbu locker rooms, and rotten eggs.

“Orochimaru-sensei—”

Ryōma elbows him (it’s barely a tap) and he nearly jumps out of his skin. He’s wary of any allied shinobi unexpectedly touching him in the middle of an ongoing hostile scenario—never mind a defected Root agent that is also an Aburame Clansman. It’s too risky to not react, so he hopes Ryōma isn’t offended that he cast a seal on him. 

Minato checks their surroundings next and his eyes widen.

Oh.

“The Kennels,” Ryōma says, like that should explain everything about this… situation. “It is… it is where Danzō punishes recruits for defiance.”

Orochimaru is kneeling outside a broken cage, attempting to use a variation of the Mystical Palm Technique on a small child with red hair so dark it might actually be purple. 

They aren’t making it easy for Orochimaru-sensei to examine them and are practically climbing all over him, small hands clinging onto the already stretched collar of a shirt that looks familiar.

“Kaede, be still.” Orochimaru says, pushing his hair back—away from prying hands. 

The child ignores him.

“Be still,” he repeats, then signs the basic command.

The child stops fidgeting, and Orochimaru resumes his examination.

A child that knows shinobi sign language… Minato reaches for their chakra signature and gapes. It feels green— _green!_

“That’s…! Are they one of the Mokuton subjects?”

Orochimaru nods and the child lets go his collar, signing ‘hungry’ and ‘food’.

Minato reaches for the seal in his pocket where he keeps rations and other dehydrated food stuffs. He hasn’t figured out how to store fresh foods, yet.

“Don’t.” Orochimaru snaps. The child makes a startled sound and Minato lets go of the ration bar he was about to draw out. “He cannot handle anything solid.”

“Oh. What about water?”

“I already gave him some.”

Minato glances around. There are rows and rows of cages with hungry eyes peering out at them. He counts at least forty occupied ‘kennels’. Not all of them have a living occupant, however. 

“What… what do we do?” he asks.

“Transport any critically endangered children to the hospital.” Orochimaru commands. “I do not care if Danzō is currently waging war right outside—Tsunade will just have to keep him busy. Give half a ration bar and water to anyone conscious, but do not let them out. I do not want anyone causing further injury to either themselves or each other.”

He nods. There’s a desperate sense of hunger in the glassy eyes of some, a dangerous glint in others—and outright killing intent coming from a handful of the older kids.

So, he does as Orochimaru-sensei asks; he hands out half a ration bar and a bamboo canister of water to every kid that can get up and reach through the cage bars and tries not to wince at the sour smell of body odor.

Then he passes two cages in a row with stiff bodies inside and has to hold back his tears. Rigor mortis begins a few hours after death and lasts between one and four days. Would these children still be alive if they had done something sooner?

“Ryōma-kun, have your insects located Jiraiya yet?”

“No. However, there are traces of his chakra in the Boneyard and evidence of unusual flora. It temporarily slowed down the kikaichū.”

“Jiraiya-sensei came down here too?” he asks.

“Minato, are you not supposed to be transferring the critically endangered?”

“…”

“Minato?” Orochimaru-sensei asks, gently.

“I haven’t found any critical cases, just—”

“Bodies?” Orochimaru finishes.

He nods.

It looks like they haven’t been fed or checked on in two or three days—any children that were already significantly weakened from the prolonged… torture (this is torture, Minato thinks, plain and simple) died before they arrived.

The rest are hungry and dehydrated, but not on the brink of expiring without immediate intervention.

He wants to let them all out—he really does!—but it’s like Orochimaru-sensei already pointed out. He can’t let anyone out until he can guarantee they won’t hurt themselves or each other.

“My insects have contacted Jiraiya. They will lead him here. Would you like me to pass on a message, Orochimaru-san?”

“No, that is fine, Ryōma-kun.”

“…Ah. He’s carrying something with him. An animal, or small child, perhaps.”

“Which is it?”

“Inconclusive. The kikaichū cannot tell, therefore I cannot say.”

Orochimaru asks Ryōma for more details, but Minato is only half listening. He’s stopped in front of a cage with yet another small body curled up in a corner. They’re not dead, though—just making themselves appear smaller—and they’re shivering. 

“Hey,” he says, keeping his voice soft. He doesn’t tap on the cage either; he doesn’t want to startle them if they’re just hiding. “I have food, and water. Can you get up? Are you hurt?”

They don’t respond, and he reaches for their chakra with his senses.

Green! But very, _very_ weak.

“Sensei! I found another Mokuton kid!”

Orochimaru-sensei flickers over, placing the toddler he called Kaede in his arms without a word, and snaps the lock off the cage in front of him. Minato awkwardly cradles the toddler in the crook of one arm, who then signs ‘yellow’ at him and drools on the shoulder of his flak jacket. 

His chest flutters—he’s never been great at handling children. What if he drops him? Unlikely, but still!

Orochimaru uses a variation of the Mystical Palm Technique to check the shivering child, a pucker appearing in his brow.

“Are there any other children in critical condition?”

There are only a couple kids left to check, and he can see them pacing inside their cages, anxious from his sudden yelling. He reaches out to them with his chakra sense and while still weak; they aren’t as weak as some others he gave rations and water to.

“No.”

“Bring Kaede and Taichi to the hospital.”

“But, Danzō is camped outside the hospital—”

“I don’t care,”

“—with an army.”

“…” Orochimaru’s eye twitches. “Numbers?”

“At least five hundred.”

“Biwako is with the Hokage at the Senju compound?” he asks.

“Yes?”

“Does she have medical equipment with her?”

“Uh, she brought what she had with her—and Tsunade-san said she has a stash at the compound.”

“Food?”

“I can raid Torifu-san’s kitchen?”

Orochimaru scoops up the shivering boy, Taichi. 

“Can you carry both of them?” he asks.

“Yeah, I don’t see why not—”

And promptly maneuvers the second boy into Minato’s free arm.

“Um…?”

“Go. I will call for you again if I need you.”

“Er, okay?”

“Go!”

“Right!”

He jumps back to the Senju compound. Kaede signs ‘yellow’, again, and throws up on him.

“Biwako-san! Help!”


	114. solve the question

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It—they are growing on you.”
> 
> “Yeah! I named her Kinoko—hope you don’t mind.”

Obito is now in his second year at the Academy and is no closer to graduating early. His grades have dropped, so he’s actually farther away from his goal than where he left off last year.

He probably won’t ever admit it (especially not aloud!) but it might be because Honōka hasn’t been around to help him review before tests and stuff.

Rin tries to help him! It’s just… she doesn’t explain things the way Honōka does. Studying comes easier to Rin—and the characters on the page don’t dance for her like they do for him. He tried explaining it to her once and she told him to just _concentrate **harder…!**_

It never works. Sometimes it just makes the words float off the page.

He told Honōka about his problem last year. She shrugged it off like it wasn’t even a big deal, but still took it upon herself to read her notes aloud to him and answer his questions as review instead.

Rin won’t do that for him. She wants him to improve his ‘study habits’ and not rely on others to get him through exam season. She even told Guy to stop bailing him out whenever he comes to class with an incomplete assignment. It’s not like he’s even begging for the answers! He just needs someone to talk him through it so he knows he isn’t doing it completely wrong…

Obito stares ahead and sighs. Maybe Honōka can help him during the winter break—assuming she doesn’t deploy outside the village before then.

There’s a flicker of movement from his peripheral vision and he glances out the window. It’s snowing! That’s so rare! It usually only ever snows for a week or two in January. 

He hopes enough falls to make a snow-nin!

Then he spots the next clan head and another member of the KKB outside and leans against the window, goggles scratching the glass. What are they doing here? Obito wonders.

Fugaku notices him and acknowledges him with a nod. Obito awkwardly waves back. They’re cousins, or something. He’s not sure how exactly—Fugaku and his father are supposed to be Uchiha Izuna’s only surviving descendants. 

Maybe it’s one of those ‘by marriage’ things. 

“Obito-kun, can you solve the question on the board for me?” Jūn-sensei asks.

His head blanks for a moment and he panics as he squints at the board, then relaxes. Thank Amaterasu! They’re doing math now. 

He’s actually decent at math. Numbers are so much easier to understand. It drives Rin nuts when she can’t beat him at math—though she insists there’s no winning or losing.

“Two point two kilometers,” he answers.

Jūn-sensei looks at his clipboard and rubs under his eyes. He’s been looking exhausted all day, like he didn’t get enough sleep last night or the night before, and maybe even the night before that! Poor Jūn-sensei.

“That is correct, Obito-kun—but I meant for you to answer it on the board so everyone else could see how to solve the question as well.”

Obito stands, smacking his knee on the bottom of his desk with a grimace. He blushes and stammers.

“O-oh, sorry! I’ll do it now!”

Jiraiya waits for the elevator at what he assumes is the shaft connecting the underground Root base to Orochimaru’s lab when a swarm of kikaichū approach him.

He raises a hand to form half seals and draws in a deep breath, ready to torch the fuckers if they make one wrong move. They stop a couple meters away and arrange themselves to form a few characters. _‘Snake’_ and _‘bug’_ and _‘kennels’._ Then a couple arrows pointing in the opposite direction.

The elevator dings behind him, and he startles—jostling Kinoko in her baby sling. She fusses for a moment before wrinkling her nose and sticking her thumb in her mouth.

He sighs. Honōka must have informed Orochimaru of his chakra signature disappearing. Jiraiya’s kind of surprised he came after him, though. Normally, he would just continue the mission, with or without him. 

“You better not lead me into any trouble,” he warns the bugs. “I got a delicate little lady with me, you hear?” He’s not even sure if the Aburame insects can convey audio messages, but he might as well say it.

He can’t use Sage Mode to boost his sensory field either—the little lady has some kind of passive chakra absorption ability. She’s not leeching much, but she’s only a baby and he doesn’t know what effects even a minute amount of natural energy would have on her. Best not to risk it.

He allows the insects to lead him at a brisk pace, noting the twists and turns they take him through. They detour around several halls, so he can only assume there are Root agents still operating inside the base.

They take him down a well-worn path hewn from rough stones packed together with clay. He smells something god awful before he senses Orochimaru and Ryōma up ahead. He thinks his nose is malfunctioning from being exposed to the Boneyard miasma for too long.

“Sage’s tits,” he says. “What the fuck is this place?”

“The Kennels,” Ryōma replies.

Fucking hell, Jiraiya thinks. _Kennels…!_

Orochimaru is checking over the kids locked in the cages—without letting them out. Jiraiya can’t blame him—some of them look ready to gnaw his fingers off when he attempts to reach them with the Mystical Palm Technique, or some variation of it.

“So good of you to join us, Jira—” Orochimaru freezes, eyes widening. “What—is that a _baby?!”_

“It’s a baby,” Jiraiya confirms and angles himself to the side so Orochimaru can see the little lady’s face better.

“…”

“…”

“It—they are growing on you.”

“Yeah! I named her Kinoko—hope you don’t mind.”

“Jiraiya, the baby is growing _roots,_ on **you**.”

He glances down and sees that the little lady is indeed spreading white mycelium roots across his chest and arm. Oh.

“Hey, would you look at that?” He doesn’t panic. She’s barely absorbing any chakra from him—and he doesn’t feel like he’s getting lightheaded or anything. “Maybe she likes me?”

Orochimaru chokes and flickers almost on top of him.

“Where did you find her? Were there others?”

“Uh…”

“Use your words, Jiraiya, or so help me…!”

There’s no way of breaking it easy to him, so he organizes his thoughts in as few words as possible.

“She was in the Boneyard, Orochi. The rest were dead.”

Orochimaru recoils.

“Dead…? How many?”

“Fifty-four.”

Ryōma glances over. “That means there are three still unaccounted for…?”

“Three? You found others?!” He squeezes Orochimaru’s shoulder with his free hand, shaking him. “That’s great!”

Orochimaru nods once.

“Where are they?” he asks. Not in any of these cages, he hopes.

He would let all of them out if he could—but he imagines it would be like letting a bunch of feral, half starved cats out into the same room. They might get along fine, or they might tear each other apart. 

“I had Minato bring them to Biwako at the Senju compound.”

“Why not to Tsunade?”

Orochimaru glares at him. 

“The hospital is under siege—which you would know by now if you had immediately reported to either Torifu’s estate or Minato’s apartment.”

Oh, fuck. He hopes Tsunade can hold her own until they finish up.

“Hey now, we wouldn’t have found Kinoko-hime and the others if we hadn’t come down here first.”

Orochimaru rolls his eyes but doesn’t disagree.

“Kinoko- _hime?_ Really, Jiraiya?”

“Look at her! Isn’t she the prettiest little baby you’ve ever seen?”

Orochimaru ignores him and reaches for her, Mystical Palm Technique activated.

“Can you tell which she is?” he asks. “I know it’s been three months since you would have last seen her, and she’s probably grown some since then.”

“She is perhaps no. 52, or no. 57—likely no. 57, who was born at twenty-two weeks. Her chance of survival was almost zero. The Root plant in the maternity ward pronounced her dead within a half hour of delivery and brought her to me.”

“And no.52?”

“…She had black hair and was almost this size already when I left.”

Right.

“Does she have a name, or can I keep calling her Kinoko-hime?”

Orochimaru snorts.

“Tsunade will be jealous, Jiraiya.”

“Yosh, Kinoko-hime it is.”

“…”

Orochimaru is still using the Mystical Palm Technique on her, eyes focused.

“Is something wrong with Kinoko-hime?”

“She’s slightly dehydrated…”

“That’s terrible! What do we do?!”

“I would not worry, Jiraiya. It appears she is more than capable of taking what she needs from you.”

What…?

“Ah,” Ryōma says. “The roots, I presume?”

“…” well, at least he doesn’t have to worry about finding her a wet nurse anytime soon, and hopefully she doesn’t turn him into a bag of bones before he does. “Right—”

The ground trembles, a roar echoing through the tunnels as overhead pipes creak and rattle from the vibrations. Jiraiya puts his hand over Kinoko’s head, in case any debris falls from above. 

…

“Who wants to bet that was Tsunade-hime punching something?”


	115. goblin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Look alive, Tsunade-hime. A punctured lung did not stop your grandfather from decimating battlefields.”

Orochimaru feels like swearing—or perhaps he would rather forgo words altogether and skip straight to screaming. 

Is nothing meant to go according to plan today?

“Can you call Minato down here again?” Jiraiya asks. “I need to drop the little princess off somewhere safe before we go running after our princess.”

“Ryōma,” he says.

“Aa.”

Ryōma run a pulse of chakra through the Hiraishin kunai Orochimaru lent him. Minato appears after a few seconds, sans his flak jacket.

“Orochimaru-sensei—he threw up on me! I thought you said you only gave him water!”

“I gave him water with half a soldier pill dissolved in it.”

Minato makes a face. He thinks his soldier pills taste quite… bad.

“Sounds awful, kid.” Jiraiya says, drawing Minato’s attention. “Mind flashing me up to Biwako? I need her to take my cute little passenger off my hands.”

Minato does a double take.

“You found _another_ one?!”

Kinoko’s thumb leaves her mouth as she works herself up to a cry. Jiraiya coos at her, gently rocking and murmuring nonsense to her. Minato makes yet another face.

“…Am I taking you and Ryōma up as well, Orochimaru-sensei?” he asks. “I felt tremors from the Senju compound—Tsunade-san must have started something, right?”

Orochimaru hesitates. There are still three children unaccounted for. 

“Shall I continue searching, Orochimaru-san? My insects should be able to identify the remaining Mokuton users based on the chakra they have already encountered.”

A lingering sense of suspicion creeps up on Orochimaru. It’s not the first time such a feeling has emerged during his interactions with the Aburame boy from another world—and it won’t be the last, he expects.

He is wary of the former Root operative, and he’s not the only one. Ryōma’s defection was timed _almost_ perfectly. Jiraiya and Minato both look to him for his decision, unable to bring themselves to encourage him to accept the boy’s offer.

Orochimaru has to remind himself that his student trusts the boy, and that Ryōma has been doing his best to help them since defecting. He has been forthcoming with information about himself, Root, and the Aburame Clan. He is willing to expose even details some would consider part of their hiden techniques to gain their trust and prove his honesty.

That by itself could be construed as suspicious behavior—but it is Honōka who first set the precedent for that openness. An unusual move for his normally secretive student, but one they are both engaging in, almost habitually now. 

Orochimaru wonders if the policy is common in the other world, being similar to the civilian method of ‘showing one’s hand’ to ensure there are no ulterior motives or tricks from either party.

“Please do,” he finally says. “Do not get caught.” 

Honōka would not appreciate him getting her newest friend killed.

“…Yes, Orochimaru-san.”

“Keep Minato’s Hiraishin kunai on hand at all times. Call for him the moment you encounter any Mokuton subjects, or are in danger.”

“Yes, Orochimaru-san.”

Orochimaru nods curtly at him.

“Minato, bring Jiraiya and I to Biwako first, then to Tsunade.”

“Yes, Orochimaru- _sensei…!”_

Tsunade would prefer to take Danzō out by herself—she’s pretty sure she could smash him flat with a couple well-timed axe kicks. However, he’s in possession of a powerful Sharingan technique that no one knows the exact cool-down period of. 

According to Fushima, the eye’s original owner could use it several times a year for minor manipulations—but significant use had rendered their left eye useless for an indeterminate amount of time.

They’re all hoping the eye containing Kotoamatsukami is inert—but Orochimaru warned them not to be overconfident in their estimations. Danzō is likely using a bastardized version of her grandfather’s healing factor. It could theoretically accelerate the recovery period of the Sharingan eye—or he could have switched out for an entirely different eye with a _potentially_ unknown ability. Wonderful.

So, when she slams her fist into Danzō’s ugly mug—feels teeth and bone shatter, feels the recoil in her shoulder—and then stares at the empty space in front of her, she knows something is wrong.

Tsunade leaps back and glances sidelong at Uchiha Teyaki. She thought his family were ‘civilian’ Uchiha, given they own and operate a senbei (rice cracker) shop. He’s her age and she knows he never attended the Academy, but here he is; wielding an iron bat—a massive kanabō as long as she is tall—and swinging it like an expert. His eyes glow red, though there are only two tomoe in each eye.

“What the hell was that?” she asks.

Teyaki swings his kanabō into the stomach of another Root agent—hard enough to ensure they don’t get up, but not enough to kill them. Tsunade is impressed.

Danzō reappears several dozen meters to the south, completely uninjured, and is set upon by half a dozen members of the Uchiha clan.

“It was probably ‘that’.” Teyaki says.

“’That’?” she asks. “Does ‘that’ have a name?”

“…It’s hard to explain, Tsunade-hime. It’s good that he used it now, though—it’s a onetime thing only. He should have permanently blinded that right eye of his just now.”

She nods. That _is_ a good thing—and probably why the Uchiha jumped on him when they did—without his stolen right eye, he’s less of a threat.

An Uchiha pins him with a sasumata and another swings an axe and beheads him. There is no blood.

Then the bastard disappears again and reappears right in front of her.

“Son of a—!”

He stabs a kunai between her ribs and twists. 

“Tsunade-hime!” Teyaki shouts.

Tsunade grits her teeth and knifes her hand, slashing the edge of her chakra reinforced manicure at Danzō’s neck. He disappears before she can make contact, leaving his kunai embedded in her left lung.

Fushima appears at her side with a dry cough, grabbing her under one arm and flickering them both back to the hospital entrance.

“Look alive, Tsunade-hime. A punctured lung did not stop your grandfather from decimating battlefields.”

She grunts and forms the seals for the Mystical Palm Technique, quickly staunching the bleeding in her chest cavity. A wave of panic tingles at the base of her spine—Danzō was very close to delivering a fatal blow—one she wouldn’t have had time to react to.

Tsunade swears. It’s not a wound she can recover from in a couple minutes—she doesn’t even have enough time to patch it over!

Gods dammit! And she’s only _just_ stabilized her Strength of a Hundred Seal…! She wanted to keep saving it up for a while yet—not waste it on _Danzō._ Who knows how long it will even last for if she releases it now?

She’ll just have to make every second count.

Tsunade releases the Strength of a Hundred Seal and rips out the kunai embedded in her lung—the rush of chakra overwhelms the pain of metal wedged between ribs being ruthlessly removed. Steam rises off the wound, the seal automatically directing healing chakra to the site.

Fushima drops a hand on her shoulder before she finishes healing, stopping her from immediately charging back into the fray.

“Danzō is most likely using a Sharingan technique called Izanagi. It can be used only once per eye, and yet he has used it three times now.”

“So he figured out how to overcome its limitations. How do I counter it?” she growls.

Fushima clears his throat.

“I do not believe he overcame Izanagi’s limitations. He must be using multiple Sharingan eyes, somehow.”

“Remotely?” she asks.

“That is one possibility.”

But not the only. Great.

“What are we supposed to do then?”

“Keep killing him until he runs out of eyes.”

Her wound finishes healing and she clenches her fist, feeling power crackling beneath her skin. 

“My pleasure.”

Tsunade flares her killing intent at Danzō and the Uchiha in his vicinity scatter. It seems the Uchiha haven’t forgotten what it means to piss off a Senju.

She leaps—flies likes an arrow, like a bullet—one heel extended forward.

It happens so fast she barely has time to savor the feeling of smashing Danzō into the paving stones, blood and guts flying around her as the ground gives way beneath her heel. There’s a look of surprise on his face—and then he’s gone.

Tsunade turns; looks left, right, up and down; forward, then behind.

_“Found you…!”_

Her grin feels feral, and she can only imagine what it must look like to the Uchiha backing away. They force the remaining Root agents and battle-happy jōnin to clear the area with them. The chūnin unanimously agreed to clear off on their own when the fighting started.

She’s kind of glad Dan isn’t around to see her face right now.

Danzō reappears at the edge of the massive crater she just created.

He takes one look at the hole in the ground, at the broken pipes spraying water and (unfortunately) raw sewage everywhere, and _sighs._

“Such a shame, Senju-hime. You were the most… tolerable member of your clan, after Tobirama-sensei. It’s a shame you weren’t born a man. You could have been so much… _more.”_

Tsunade snorts, digging her fingernails into her palm. She will not rise to his barbs. 

“I don’t have to be a man to grind your bones into dust, Danzō.”

He ignores her.

“Goburi, come forward.”

A Root agent melts out of the ground, standing a full head taller than Danzō. Tsunade plants her feet. 

“Because you are a woman, I do not even need to raise a hand to crush your spirits, Senju-hime. Remove your mask, Goburi.”

The Root agent does as bid, revealing a stony face with a deep scar bisecting his face nearly in half, from scalp to chin, carving a deep indent over the bridge of a crooked nose and through the corner of his lips. His hood falls without the mask’s pointy goblin ears holding it in place, exposing light brown hair with a streak of white where the scar ends.

Tsunade doesn’t understand what she’s looking at for a moment—doesn’t understand _who_ she is looking at. But when she looks into unfocused hazel eyes, her knees go weak.

“Nawaki?!”


	116. “Copper is very conductive.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Honōka sharpens her teeth and grins.
> 
> The Root agents won’t know what hit them. 

Honōka jumps up, and Kakashi jams an entire rice crack into one cheek before pulling his mask up. He chews furiously for a couple seconds until the outline of the rice cracker disappears. 

“What is it?” Gaku asks, nose twitching.

“Root agents. Just two. They snuck in between the Akimichi patrol.”

Gaku tenses, and Chairo sits up, ears swiveling.

“Where are they going?” Kakashi asks.

Honōka concentrates. They’re moving in a straight line over the rooftops. She follows the general direction and pauses. 

They’re heading almost straight for Torifu’s house, but not quite. Their course is more in line with the house across the road.

She reaches out for the individual signatures in the house across the road. They’re all smallish chakra signatures—civilians with under developed Chakra Pathway Systems. Honōka tries not to snoop with her Shinryūgan and sensor abilities, but the present circumstances demand action, and a little snooping.

She reaches at random, touching one of the three water natured nexuses. The other two are earth natured and with the same three parts yang chakra to two parts yin chakra as most the Akimichi Clan have. 

Honōka finds herself in a half sphere of open water; edges overflowing, excess spilling into dark nothingness. She looks up—the blue sky pales until it transitions into pure white.

It’s a strange and very basic nexus. 

She crouches and looks into the water, seeing only her own reflection.

Then a flicker of warmth, and the sound of tuneless humming. Someone holding her, rocking her gently—lulling her to sleep. Her eyes droop. It’s a nice memory.

Honōka shakes her head and scowls at herself. Of the five signatures she could have picked from, she picked a _baby._

The memory feels foggy and indistinct, like the mist that lingers over the water inside the baby’s nexus. She doubts she’ll find anything inside their memories that will tell her who is in the house next door.

Then the baby opens their eyes inside the memory and looks up at the blurry image of Tsunemori—no—Akimichi Sachiko.

 _Shinku!_ She’s looking at Shinku’s nexus, and Shinku’s memories!

Honōka steps outside his nexus and flares her killing intent at the approaching Root agents. They’re after her baby nephew!

The rush of killing intent has Chairo’s hackles rising and Kakashi’s hair standing on end. Gaku immediately gets to his feet.

“Are they coming this way?”

“They’re after Shinku!” and her threat display barely fazed them!

“Ah, shit.” Gaku says. “I’ll go head them off. You guys call for backup!”

If the Akimichi shinobi in the district didn’t respond to her flaring killing intent just now, they aren’t going to respond to her calling for help through tap code either.

“I’m going with you,” she says.

“No, you are not.” Gaku growls.

Kakashi suddenly produces a paint brush and bamboo container… from his pocket.

“Gaku-nī, while you distract the Root agents, we can set up an imperceptible barrier seal next door.”

She glares at Kakashi. “You knew my sister and her family were next door and you didn’t tell me?!”

“Sensei told me—and I thought you would have figured it out by now. Some sensor type you are.”

She squawks at him and then shoves Gaku-nī. “Go, go, _go!_ Don’t die until Kakashi sets up the barrier, okay?!”

“Don’t die at all, if you can help it,” Kakashi corrects.

“Yeah, what he said, Gaku-nī—now _go!”_

“Jeez, I’m going! Chairo, stay! Guard Tsume.”

Gaku jumps onto the tiled roof and runs. Honōka projects her killing intent extra loud, hoping to attract the attention of any nearby allies.

“How are we crossing the road?” Kakashi asks. “Underground?”

She nods and grabs his hand, pulling them both under. It takes a couple tries to find a way through the pipes in the ground, which do not readily respond to her Tōkatsuchi no Jutsu.

By the time they get across the road, Gaku-nī is engaging the Root agents with the help of an Akimichi clansmen from one of the nearby houses. Maybe a retired shinobi, Honōka thinks. 

They pop out in an inner courtyard and head straight for the room where she knows the five (five? Sachiko, Kōen, Shinku… Nagihiko, and one other?) residents of the house are holed up together. Torifu probably warned them how dangerous today’s situation could become.

Kakashi reaches for the sliding shōji screen.

“Wait, Kakashi—”

He pulls the door open and nearly gets chopped at with a kitchen cleaver. The knife goes over his head, shearing off a couple strands of his silver hair.

“Manaka-chan! That is a _child!”_ Sachiko-nē-san screeches.

“Don’t be fooled, Sachi-nē! It’s a shinobi—it’s wearing a headband and a mask and everything!”

Kakashi backpedals almost on top of her, patting his hair down. She can practically feel his life flashing before his eyes. He probably didn’t expect a non-shinobi to be so good at hiding their presence. 

Honōka takes a deep breath and steps in front of the open door. She waves at Manaka, who grits her teeth and holds the kitchen knife firm.

“Hi, Manaka—onē-san.”

It used to bother Manaka that she wouldn’t call her ‘older sister’, at all, and Honōka could never bring herself to call Manaka her older sister. Because—for most of Honōka's life—Manaka didn’t feel ‘older’ than she was.

Manaka’s eyes narrow in suspicion. Sachiko moves to step around her, but is stopped by Manaka’s free hand.

“Wait, Sachi-nē. How do we know it’s actually Honōka and not some ninja magic?”

Honōka considers. She thinks she should probably mention something from their childhood, but her memories from before she met Sensei are patchy. She wonders why—her memories of being Tachibana Tomoe are still clear as day, despite no longer considering herself the same person.

“Um… you told everyone I was possessed by a fox?”

Manaka winces.

“Yeah, I did—but like you just said—I told _everyone_ that.”

She hears Gaku-nī shouting nearby and a crash that sounds like breaking boards—the fence, probably. She clenches her fist, struggling to think of a more private detail.

“Mikumo-nī wet the bed until he was twelve years old.”

Kakashi chokes and Honōka grimaces. She would have rather not broadcasted that, but… she can’t think of anything else. Manaka bites her lip to keep a straight face.

“Okay, you pass.”

Honōka breathes a sigh of relief and enters the room, pulling Kakashi with her.

Manaka points the knife at him.

“I didn’t say _he_ could come in!”

“This is Kakashi, he’s my partner and he’s going to make this room invisible to enemy-nin.”

Manaka looks skeptical, but Nagihiko breathes out an enormous sigh of relief. He’s carrying Kōen, who’s hair is somewhere between Sachiko’s honey-color and Nagihiko’s dark brown—a caramel color, maybe. It’s not curly or straight, or wavy like his mother’s hair, though. It’s the same kind of fluffy mess as hers is. His eyes are again a mix of his parents, a darker blue than Sachiko's eyes that nearly looks black, like his father's eyes. 

She spots Shinku on the floor, lying on his belly on top of a small futon; head raised, eyes wide.

Honōka blinks, and he blinks too. Kakashi pulls her into the room, keeping her between him and Manaka, like a shield.

Blue eyes with big red pupils follow her.

Kakashi puts the opened bamboo ink well in her hand and preps the paint brush while she stares at her nephew.

“Sorry about the ink,” Kakashi says and begins painting seals on the walls of the expensive looking traditional room.

No one complains.

“We’re still good, right?” Kakashi whispers. “Gaku-nī is keeping the Root agents busy?”

Honōka nods. This is so weird, she thinks. She’s in the same room as both her sisters, and both her nephews!

No one’s saying anything though, which might have to do with the way everyone flinches whenever they hear a paper tag detonate, or metal clashing on metal. But, in almost no time at all, Kakashi finishes the barrier. He’s almost as fast at Minato is at applying it.

“It’s finished.” He says. “The room can still be damaged from outside, but no one can tell the room is here anymore. As long as you stay inside, you can’t be found.”

“And if the room is damaged from the outside?” Manaka asks. “What then, _huh?”_

Kakashi glances at her and then back to her sister.

Manaka is a tense bundle of nerves, and Honōka has always struggled with interpreting Manaka’s moods. Her temperament can be as flippant as… and is prone to sudden bursts of anger, and _never_ resorts to violence.

“Don’t worry,” Kakashi says. “We’ll protect this room, right, Honōka?”

She nods, then hears a crash from inside the house and feels the unknown Akimichi signature enter the home’s premises.

No one else hears or even feels the commotion happening outside anymore, because of the seal. She thinks Minato should do something about that—it's great that no one can sense them, but not so great that no one (except for herself) can sense what is going on outside either. 

She gives Kakashi his bamboo ink well and signs ‘danger—fifty meters’.

He doesn’t react, just puts his sealing supplies away—in his pocket!—and signs ‘urgent?’ back at her.

She signs her affirmative. 

“Stay inside,” Kakashi says, again. “You’ll be safer if you do.”

 _“Safer?!”_ Manaka hisses. “What do you mean by _safer?_ Are you implying we might still not be safe enough?!”

Honōka pushes Kakashi to the door, dodging Manaka’s glare as they go. Yup. That’s the energetic and very pessimistic Manaka she knows and sometimes loves. 

“Right, stay inside, everybody!”

“Honōka—” Sachiko says, but is cut off.

“It was nice seeing you guys!” Honōka shouts and then slams the door in their faces. 

Sachiko squabbles with Manaka for a couple seconds, wanting to open the door and finish what she was saying, but Manaka convinces her not to. Well, she forbids her from even trying, actually.

“What happened the rest of the Akimichi patrol?” Kakashi asks.

“They’re fighting more Root agents.”

“…And you’re just mentioning this now?!” 

Honōka shrugs. “We can handle two Root agents with Gaku-nī’s help.”

“Orochimaru-sensei is going to kill me…!” Kakashi groans, pulling his hair. “Alright—what’s the plan?”

Honōka pulls a length of copper wire from her sleeve and then keeps pulling. She hid the rest of the spool inside her nexus—an industrial size spool she bought from a factory using Sensei’s checkbook. It feels awkward, because sometimes she can _feel_ the entire weight attached to the copper she tucked inside her shirt sleeve.

Kakashi frowns. “Honōka… that’s not shinobi grade wire, is it?”

“It’s industrial copper wire.”

“…Do I even want to know what you plan on using that for?”

“Copper is very conductive.”

A slow smirk forms beneath his mask and he holds his thumb and forefinger a couple centimeters apart, forcing energy to arc between his fingers. 

Honōka sharpens her teeth and grins.

The Root agents won’t know what hit them. 


	117. And that’s a pattern.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gaku turns on them and drops to one knee. He’s not begging—he just needs them to listen to him without blowing him off and getting themselves in even more trouble. Sage have mercy; Orochimaru is going to kill him if lives through this mess. 
> 
> “I need you guys to do me a major favor.”

Gaku hits the ground rolling. He’s on his own until the kids finish warding Honōka’s sister’s house and call for backup. An Akimichi clansman jumped in to help him, but basic self-defense and rusty bōjutsu just isn’t enough to distract the Root agents for long. Gaku hopes the man isn’t dead.

A shuriken whistles past one ear. 

This would be so much easier if he had his partner with him, but he couldn’t justify leaving Tsume by herself. He’d rather Chairo stay with her in case another Root agent were to get by the shinobi patrolling Akimichi-chō.

They throw another volley of kunai his way and he dodges to the left, almost stepping on a paper land mine.

Gaku hates fighting trap specialists more than most shinobi. He’s a bit of a specialist himself, after all—he just deals in disarming traps instead, which is difficult when he’s fighting face-to-face with no backup. He grits his teeth and draws his last kunai. 

If he’s going down, he’s taking at least one of these assholes with him! Gaku tenses, preparing to launch himself at the nearest agent.

A small hand closes around his ankle, and he snarls—a fraction of a second away from retaliating. Then he can’t retaliate, because he’s a _cat_ and Honōka has partially scruffed him!

“Kakashi!”

A twang of metal and a length of tripwire snaps above ground, catching each Root agent by an ankle. The agents go rigid and Gaku feels his fur stand as a pulse of electricity travels along the copper colored ninja wire—which might actually be plain copper wire—and the end Honōka holds in her free hand. He’s not sure if she’s wearing an actual insulated glove, or is just transforming her hand.

On the opposite side of the road, Kakashi grips the other end of the wire, hand sparking with raw lightning natured chakra. 

“Ground,” Honōka says, and Kakashi disperses the arcs of electricity.

The Root agents collapse, motionless, save for the occasional muscle spasm—Raiton will do that to a person.

He gawks at Kakashi. 

That was pure nature manipulation with a bit of shape manipulation thrown in—zero hand signs required—and it worked! Lightning nature is supposed to be the most difficult element to work with, and Kakashi made it look _easy._

_Damn,_ Hatake prodigies, man!

Honōka puts him down and lets go, and he is abruptly human shaped again. He stumbles.

“Honōka, please never do that again,” he gasps. “I can _taste_ cat.”

She shrugs. “Cats are easier to carry than dogs.”

“Pakkun is easy to carry,” Kakashi defends.

“Ooh! I should make a Pakkun transformation next!”

Gaku slowly shakes his head. _Geniuses…!_ He clears his throat. They should tie up the Root agents before they recover—which he doubts will be anytime soon. That was quite the shock the kids gave them.

“Right, come on, Kakashi. Help me tie up these guys.” Honōka says. 

Gaku seems to recall Honōka saying she can’t read minds, but he’s genuinely not sure if he believes her. 

“I got it, Honōka. Why don’t you and Kakashi go back with your sister?”

She ignores him, and so does Kakashi. Gaku scowls at them. He’s their _superior_ —they’re supposed to listen to him, dammit!

“Guys—”

“Gaku-nī, you should heal the Akimichi-oji-san over there. We can handle these two.”

Kakashi holds up his end of the copper wire in demonstration.

Gaku groans. He’s blaming their blatant disregard for authority on Orochimaru.

“…Zap them if they so much as breathe funny.”

“Yes, Gaku-nī! Bzz-bzz, Kakashi—the big one is trying to roll over.”

“Understood.”

…How did he ever think these kids were cute? They’re _terrifying!_

So, while he goes to check on the unconscious Akimichi man, the kids ruthlessly tie the Root agents together, back-to-back with copper wire that never seems to run out. It’s coming from Honōka’s sleeve, so he expects it’s a fūinjutsu trick—like Kakashi’s pocket—or some new nonsense Honōka came up with on her own.

After wrapping the agents up in three layers of wire, ensuring the Root agents can’t break free from the weaker non-shinobi grade wire, the end still attached to Honōka snaps. She rolls up her sleeve, twisting the remaining tail of copper wire around her forearm, just above her white and red summoning mark.

It just protrudes from her skin, so it’s definitely something new.

“What about the remaining Root agents?” Kakashi says, and Gaku almost chokes.

There are more?! _Where?!_

“The shinobi patrolling Akimichi-chō handled them.” Honōka replies, flashing a quick thumbs up.

“Thank the gods for that…!” he mutters.

“Should we tell your sisters it’s alright to come out?” Kakashi asks.

“You can, if you like.”

“…Why do I have to do it?”

“…”

“…?”

Gaku watches the stare off with a raised brow. He understands (vaguely) why Honōka might not want to do it, but he senses there’s a story behind Kakashi’s reluctance.

Honōka suddenly stiffens, and a moment later a rumble like nearby thunder reaches their ears, followed by a tremor. He frowns. 

“That came from the hospital, didn’t it?” Kakashi says.

“Tsunade-hime?” Gaku guesses.

Honōka shushes them both, eyebrows puckered as she extends her senses and chews the inside of her cheek. That can’t be a good sign.

“What is it?” he asks.

Her lower lip trembles and Kakashi steps in, gripping her forearm—grounding her.

“Honōka…?”

“Gaku-nī, I don’t understand.”

Honōka’s voice wobbles and he can only assume something _very bad_ has happened to shake her like this.

“Tsunade-san’s chakra… it’s almost identical to the Root agent with Danzō. It’s—it’s similar, like how yours and Tsume’s chakra are similar.”

That could mean one of several things, or even a combination of things; cursed seals, chakra absorbing techniques, mimicry… but the way Honōka is reacting—the way Tsunade-hime is reacting—can only mean one thing.

Senju Nawaki is alive.

As Orochimaru already theorized, the explosive tags set fifteen years ago on August tenth were set for a purpose. The obvious target, given the events that unfolded shortly after the incident, would have been Gaku and his sister—the untouchable Senju heir being unfortunate collateral damage…

But, given Nawaki’s lineage, wouldn’t it make more sense if the target had been Nawaki all along? 

Boss man (Orochimaru) had been temporarily in charge of his genin team (himself, Nawaki, and Fugaku, who was filling in for Hyūga Miyabi—a teammate that died on one of their very first missions…) after their original jōnin-sensei lost his leg on a different mission. He was only in charge of them for a handful of missions before Nawaki died and was reassigned somewhere else immediately after.

And Fugaku, the little shit, joked that Tsunade must have killed her teammate when a different jōnin-sensei showed up the week after. He had a terrible sense of humor when he was a brat—probably because he graduated early and thought gallows humor was the best way to make friends with the older kids. 

Never mind that Orochimaru was the one to collect Nawaki’s ‘body’, and the one to declare it ‘unrecognizable’. Gaku swears he saw Orochimaru cry that day, so he’s not blaming him for his involvement with Root; the guy was under the effects of Kotoamatsukami and was a literal teenager when it all went down. 

“Gaku-nī… what do we do?”

He’s not sure. 

Tsunade freaking adored her little brother. She was always there to check on him after a mission, congratulating and teasing him in equal measures, and Nawaki liked to pretend she was embarrassing him, but he never once pushed her away. They were close—closer than him and Tsume. 

Most of the time, Gaku feels like Tsume’s parent. A ten, almost eleven year age gap will do that.

He’s not sure… but he feels like he owes it to Nawaki to be there, to do anything he can to rescue him from Danzō. 

…He’s also responsible for the little monsters, and they really shouldn’t be left unsupervised at all.

Gaku turns on them and drops to one knee. He’s not begging—he just needs them to listen to him without blowing him off and getting themselves in even more trouble. Sage have mercy; Orochimaru is going to kill him if lives through this mess. 

“I need you guys to do me a major favor.”

Tsunade stares into the blank eyes of her baby brother—now a grown man, and her mind blanks.

Fifteen years. She mourned her baby brother’s death for fifteen years—and it was a lie.

Danzō moves right and she forms the seals for the Water Bullet Technique, focusing the stream into the thinnest possible jet. It rends the bastard in two, but then he disappears and reappears only two steps to the left. Those two steps were the only movements he made in the last sixty seconds or so.

And that’s a pattern.

“Fushima, take care of my little brother. If you hurt him—”

Fushima scoffs at her.

“No need to finish that sentence, Senju-hime. The Uchiha fully understand the consequences of starting a blood feud.”


	118. A concussion is the second most reliable method of subjugation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The agent draws their standard grade tantō.
> 
> “At ease, agent.” Ryōma commands.

Fushima and the Uchiha set upon Nawaki, and Tsunade forces herself to focus on Danzō. She needs to keep him from jumping all over the place. She has a theory to test.

Each time she ‘killed’ Danzō, he faded away and reappeared at a space he occupied within the last sixty seconds.

She’s not sure how soon he can use the technique again after, or even if the technique has a cool-down period at all. But, if she can keep him from moving around too much, she at least stands a chance of predicting where he might reappear and reaching him before he can trigger the technique.

Of course, keeping him in one place won’t be easy. She’s killed him five times now, and he’s done flaunting—or has realized she’s prepared to kill him as many times as it takes to make it stick.

And, unfortunately, he’s smarter than she gave him credit for. The bastard knows exactly what she’s trying to do and is doing his damnedest to track all over the field.

He’s also faster than she thought, which he proves when he cuts her throat with a hooked dagger drawn from his sleeve. He has a genuine limp—his cane isn’t for show—and it’s not slowing him down at all!

The few seconds she takes to dislodge the blade and heal finds them short five shinobi.

She thinks Danzō is finished playing his hand conservatively and is determined to take out as many Uchiha as he can before he folds and runs away, like the cockroach he is.

Because there’s no coming back from this now; the cat’s out of the bag.

And, in a rare show of trust from the Uchiha, Fushima admitted the weakness of the Sharingan’s Kotoamatsukami technique was not just the cool-down between uses, but also the difficulty of casting it on multiple targets at the same time. 

There are too many witnesses for Danzō to cover this up—and that’s entirely his own fault.

What did he think was going to happen? That all the chūnin and jōnin would fight her without hesitation? She took one step outside her hospital, cracked her knuckles, and the lot of them (save for a few crazies) hauled ass out of there. Mitokado Homura and Utatane Koharu didn’t even blink before they ran! _Goddamn couch ninjas…!_

Tsunade charges back into play, hand knifed and thrumming with condensed chakra. She feels a twinge of guilt as she steps over a dead or dying Uchiha shinobi.

As a medical-nin, it feels like she’s breaking her sworn oaths. However, today she is not Tsunade the medical-nin—she is Tsunade the Sannin—and in absence of the ‘boys’ she’s just going to pick up the slack and get shit done, with or without them. 

Her foot touches the ground and a reactive spear of stone rushes up to meet her, crushing her ribs and piercing her chest cavity. The pain is unreal, but she won’t die—not while she still has chakra. 

“Tsunade-hime!”

Then the stone spike splits into two limbs and wraps around her, pinning her arms to her sides. She stares at the Doton jutsu, unable to comprehend what she’s seeing.

And then it hits her (or, it finally _sinks_ in); the stone spear is not an Earth Release technique at all—it’s Wood Release. 

Mokuton.

She looks up, gasping as blood dribbles down her chin, forming frothy bubbles from her labored breathing.

Nawaki stands at Danzō’s side, the bodies of several Uchiha shinobi hanging by brittle stone-colored branches. Blood creeps down the grayish bark of the gnarled limbs, and a crashing wave of fury washes over her.

What did that bastard _do_ to her little brother?

She hears glass break somewhere behind her, in the hospital’s direction. She can’t turn around to confirm with her own eyes, but she’s fairly certain someone just broke _out_ of the hospital.

Her suspicions are confirmed when Jiraiya appears next to her and breaks the wood tightening around her with a deceivingly gentle palm strike. He’s already using Sage Mode. Good. He’ll need it.

He grabs her around the waist and flickers away, Nawaki’s branches pursue her until they are intercepted by a flash of steel and long black hair. 

The famed Sword of Kusanagi—the mythical blade Orochimaru 'picked up' while on border patrol.

According to Orochimaru, the sword was sealed at the daimyō’s residence, and when Fujimasa Naotaki took over (after he and Minato assassinated the previous Kusa daimyō) he gave the sword to him as payment. Tsunade thinks Orochimaru gleefully ripped the daimyō off. Her grandfather would have traded his soul and all his worldly possessions (but not Konoha!) to have that sword. 

It’s a terrifying sword—it cuts through the Mokuton like it’s _grass,_ as the name suggests.

“Tsunade…!” Jiraiya gasps, having examined her condition. She grunts as he carefully lays her down.

“I’m not dying—” she says. “Strength of a Hundred—!” The wracking cough she struggles to breathe through doesn’t reassure Jiraiya in the least. 

Jiraiya wipes her mouth on the back of his wrist when she’s done hacking up what feels like half her lung and a blood clot the size of a large grape. She wonders where the hell his sleeves went.

“Just focus on healing, Hime—you don’t know how long your seal will last!”

“Jiraiya, Nawaki—!” she coughs.

“…We got it, Hime. Heal up. Fushima’s coming this way.”

“Don’t hurt my baby brother, you hear?!”

Jiraiya lowers her head and maneuvers her into the recovery position, so she doesn’t drown in her own blood before she heals. “We’ll try, Hime.”

He won’t look at her when he says that—makes her no promises.

He flickers away before she can make anymore demands and Tsunade pounds her fist on the ground, trembling through the pain in her wrecked abdominal muscles. She raises a shaky hand, already coated in her blood, and forms the seals for the Kuchiyose no Jutsu.

She summons a portion of Katsuyu and Fushima limps towards her while holding his side, with several Uchiha in tow. Some are carrying body sealing scrolls. They can't afford to leave the bodies of their dead out in the open, in case Danzō can somehow snatch their eyes and make use of the Izanagi techniques without actually transplanting the eyes.

Tsunade curses. She should have told Jiraiya about the one-minute interval!

“Katsuyu! Get close to Jiraiya or Orochimaru and pass on this message, please!”

Ryōma sends out his kikaichū after Orochimaru leaves with his teammates and the Mokuton child. He has an insect tag each child still in the Kennels, so that they are not forgotten or misplaced when all this is over.

He sends a handful to the barracks. If there are indeed Mokuton users unaccounted for, who are not dead or being kenneled, their most likely location is at the communal barracks. They are too young to be of any use on the battlefield today, and likely too inexperienced to be part of the skeleton crew guarding the Foundation’s underground base while Danzō and the other agents are battling. 

Getting them out (when he finds them) will not be easy, Ryōma expects, and will likely require quick thinking and improvisation. His heart skips a beat at the thought. He used to love improv. 

He likes it a lot less these days. 

The kikaichū in his body pick up on a pheromone message from the trail of scouts and inform him in the vaguest of senses that they have located the owner(s) of the Mokuton chakra.

It is not nearly as detailed an account as a ‘true’ S-rank sensor-nin’s abilities could provide, but it is also nigh impossible to trick with genjutsu or any other method. His insects can also relay to him things about a situation that traditional sensor abilities cannot—like environmental contaminants and other such hazards. 

Of which there are none, barring the presence of lead from old pipes and electrical soldering.

He follows the directions as prompted by his kikaichū and frowns when they take him down a previously unexplored hallway, hidden behind a visual illusion. He thought he knew every nook and cranny inside the Foundation, but clearly he thought wrong.

His insects warn him that there is an agent after the next turn, and he steadies himself with a deep breath. There are two agents, his insects update. One outside a cavity/void space and another just inside it. He itches to reach for his mask, but that is an Anbu mannerism.

The only Root agents that wear masks at all times are Danzō’s personal guards—who are more like puppets than living humans. Ryōma used to wonder if they had faces at all, or if Danzō had taken that from them as well.

He turns the corner and is almost relieved. It’s a younger agent, unlikely to pose much of a threat. 

The agent draws their standard grade tantō.

“At ease, agent.” Ryōma commands.

They don’t ease up. He supposes word of his defection will have spread quickly among the younger agents. They’re more chatty than the older agents.

“Danzō-sama has ordered the experimental Mokuton subjects to be moved to another location."

He must hit on a keyword, or perhaps his defection was still unconfirmed, because the agent fractionally lowers their weapon. Ryōma flashes forward and slams their head into the wall of the narrow hall.

A concussion is the second most reliable method of subjugation—death being the first and most reliable method. 

He draws Minato’s Hiraishin kunai and kicks down the last door between him and his objective. 

What greets him on the other side is both unexpected and disturbing; a combination he thought he was long desensitized to.

However, seeing what appears to be a mummified body suspended in layers upon layers of interconnected paper tags manages to tickle his numbed sense of horror. 

The body looks like a fly caught in a spider web, and each string of tags that anchors the web disappears inside small open pipes. One has burned away, leaving an ashy trail on the stone floor beneath the web—another is intact but slack and carries the distinct pheromone of his silverfish on it.

He’s puzzling out the meaning of such details, when the head twitches.

And then it (she?) speaks.

“I saw you coming, Aburame Tatsuma.”

**Author's Note:**

> Updates on Saturdays!
> 
> Chapter 1-30: The 1st Arc  
> Chapter 31-75: The Border Patrol Arc  
> Chapter 76-???: The Konoha Coup Arc
> 
> I have a discord server! Please stop by if you have questions about Honōka or just to hang out!
> 
> <https://discord.gg/kdrWm4XEMG>

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Sum Honōka Fanart ( •̀ ω •́ )✧](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26918959) by [SuuItosukai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuuItosukai/pseuds/SuuItosukai)




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